Eternal Politics
by nebula2
Summary: Reid has found his place with the team but more changes are coming. When Gideon's request for a media liaison is denied, to what lengths will he go to get his way. (Sequel to Eternal Changes)
1. Ninety Days

As SSA Jason Gideon, Unit Chief for the FBI's lead team of profilers, stepped off the elevator onto the sixth floor of the building that housed the BAU he was met with quiet. Footsteps echoing on the tile floor quiet. As he started toward his office, the quiet didn't bother Gideon though, as he had expected it - after all not many of the bureau's employees came into the office at six-thirty in the morning. Then again, not many had a desk that was swamped with paperwork even before they went out of town on a case for five days. Add to that the new paperwork for this latest case and he was starting to wonder if he was going to be able to find his desk once he reached his office.

Gideon made his way through the empty bullpen, and up the steps to the catwalk in front of his office. Reaching Hotch's empty office, Gideon pushed open the unlocked door and headed over to the desk. Even in the dim lighting in the office Gideon took note of the shiny, clear surface of his teammate's desk and felt envious of the sight. He wasn't even sure what color the top of his desk was at this point, as it had been covered with stuff for so long. With a hint of satisfaction, the Unit Chief placed the files in his hand down on the otherwise clear desktop. Both Morgan and Nichols' yearly evaluations were due and though he had taken them home with him last night, he had gotten nowhere with them. He had fully intended on working on them but had gotten caught up in other reports - namely the cost justification paperwork for their last case- and had never gotten to them. In fact, he still had to finish that, he had fallen asleep while working on it last night and Strauss would be looking for it today.

~ _I need to take a vacation in order to catch up on the paperwork_ ,~ Gideon thought ruefully as he turned from Hotch's desk.

The post-it stuck on the front of the top folder would let Hotch know that he wanted the younger man to fill the evaluations out. Hotch had offered to do just that two days ago after they had discussed both agents' performances over the past year during a lunch in Gideon's office. Gideon had declined the help then. While he valued Hotch's input, a second pair of eyes and opinion tended to lead to a more helpful, and accurate evaluation, Gideon had felt he should fill the evaluation out himself. Of course that was before he realized that the other stuff that he couldn't pass onto anyone else was just not going to allow that.

Satisfied that the evals were left in capable hands, Gideon headed for his own office. Flipping on the lights to the room only worsened his mood as the amount of work he had to do became more apparent. Stacks of files of potential cases were everywhere - the extra chairs, on the floor by the wall, and the smaller stack of those he had decided to give to team members for consults on his desk. Boxes with files pertaining to cases he was researching for his latest article sat wherever he had found a spot. The inbox basket was overflowing while next to it, the outbox sat comparatively empty - the handful of things waiting to be picked up by the interoffice messenger seeming meager. Though he hoped to have the cost justification report added to it before the morning pick-up, it still didn't do anything to lift the weight of work he knew had to be done. The rest of his desk was covered with notebooks, scribbled notes, and the start of a lecture on profiling Agent Jericho had asked him to present for the latest batch of Academy cadets next week. The reminder of it had him wondering why he had said yes to his former BAU colleague in the first place.

~ _Standing here is getting absolutely nothing done_ ,~ Gideon told himself as he headed toward his desk. Finding a clear spot big enough for his coffee cup, the profiler placed the beverage down and dropped the rest of the papers he had taken home the night before in his chair. Reaching out he began to quickly put the scattered items into some semblance of an organized pile so that he would have room to work.

Having cleared a spot of his desk (the surface of which was a dark brown Gideon noted absently), the agent picked up the folders he had dropped in his chair moments before and sat down. His first priority was getting this cost justification report done so that Strauss didn't come looking for it, dealing with the Section Chief via emails and on the phone was bad enough. Gideon tried to limit his face-to-face interaction to meetings that he couldn't avoid with her.

Opening files, Gideon picked up where he had left off at home. The BAU Unit Chief immersed himself so fully into his work that he was not aware of the floor coming to life as other employees started filtering onto the floor. When the cost justification report was done, Gideon thankfully placed it into the outbox, and reached for the top item in the inbox.

Opening the file he recognized the formal proposal Hotch and he had submitted to Strauss about adding a media liaison position to the team. 'Denied' had been stamped in red on the cover page of the proposal with no explanation given. Closing the file in disgust, Gideon turned to his computer. Switching it on, he tapped his fingers impatiently on the desktop as he waited for the computer to start up. Whether she wanted to or not, Strauss was going to give him a reason for dismissing the request for that particular added position, though he strongly believed her main reasoning was that she didn't like him. Not that she would say so, but he wanted to see what justification she could come up with when put on the spot.

SSA Chad Nichols kept a close eye on the bullpen as he pretended to look busy. He was waiting for his youngest teammate, Agent Reid, to leave his desk to get coffee like he did every morning so that he could carry out his surprise for the young genius. Despite the doubts of other agents in the unit, self-doubts, and animosity from co-workers, Dr. Spencer Reid had reached the ninety day mark of his FBI career. Agent Nichols wasn't about to let the milestone go past without some recognition of it.

Nichols original plan had been to get here early and be waiting for Reid when he came in. His son, Evan, and niece, Karen, however had ruined that plan when they decided to have a food fight with the scrambled eggs this morning. When he and Vanessa had finally gotten their two kids to cease and desist, eggs and ketchup smears were all over the kitchen, in hair, and on clothes. The only one not soiled was Tara who had ran from the room as soon as Evan had flicked the first pieces of scrambled eggs at Karen with his fork. By the time that he had gotten the kids cleaned up and changed clothes himself, Nichols had to rush to make it to work on time, meaning all of his teammates had arrived first.

So now Nichols was waiting for Reid to leave his desk. As the young agent still didn't have coffee, the computer tech knew it was only a matter of time before Reid would head for the small kitchenette for his caffeine fix.

Nichols was just finishing the filing, which really didn't need to be done, when he saw Reid get to his feet. Inconspicuously, Nichols turned from the shelves he had been working at and headed for his office. Quickly retrieving the cupcake he had brought with him this morning, a red '90' written on the white frosting, he headed back for the bullpen. With a quick glance at the kitchenette to gauge Reid's progress, the team's computer specialist made for Reid's desk.

Pushing the file Reid had opened out of the way, Nichols placed the cupcake down in the center of the desk and then added a candle to it.

"What's that?" Morgan asked from his own desk.

Nichols stepped away from Reid's desk and leaned against the side of Hudson's which faced it. He looked across the aisle at Morgan.

"A little celebratory cupcake. Junior's managed to make it ninety days, so I thought I would recognize the accomplishment."

"Has it been that long?" Hudson asked idly, looking up from his computer.

"Sure has been. Much longer than that week you gave him, huh?" Nichols replied, glancing over his shoulder at his younger teammate.

"Okay, so I underestimated the kid. Cut me a break, will you?"Hudson muttered, looking properly embarrassed. Since the case in Alabama, Hudson had been making an effort to be nicer to Reid, though he would be the first to admit the genius drove him crazy at times. More than once Hudson had to fight the urge to lock Reid in a closet so that he wouldn't have to hear him spout facts and the occasional verbal jab did slip in from time to time during team discussions. The biggest difference was that Hudson would be just as quick as any of his other teammates to defend Reid if someone outside their team gave him a hard time.

"Here he comes," Morgan whispered, seeing Reid walking toward them, coffee cup in hand.

The three agents fell silent, all of them looking toward their returning teammate. Seeing three pairs of eyes on him, Reid slowed his steps, eyeing his teammates warily.

"Did I do something wrong?" Reid asked, looking first at Nichols, then Morgan and then Hudson before letting his gaze fall back on Nichols. He still hadn't noticed the cupcake sitting on his desk.

"Now why would you think that, Junior?"

"Because you're all staring at me like I did something or you're waiting for something to happen," Reid replied, stopping a few paces away from the desk.

"Relax, Kid. It's not like Hotch or Gideon is here waiting for you," Morgan supplied, trying to put the younger agent at ease.

"Yeah, I was just telling Morgan and Hudson about the food fight Evan and Karen decided to have at the breakfast table this morning," Nichols replied, not bothered by the white lie because if he had gotten the time he would have told them. Chances are he would still be telling the story as he had no doubt both of his teammates would be asking questions now that he had mentioned it.

Accepting the explanation, Reid moved forward lifting his coffee cup to take a sip of the heavily sweetened hot beverage. Pulling out his chair, Reid started to sit down, stopping in mid motion as he noticed the cupcake.

"What's this?"

"Just a little celebratory cupcake," Nichols said, taking a lighter out of his pocket. Leaning over the partition separating Hudson and Reid's desk, the computer specialist lit the candle. "There you go. Blow it out for good luck on your next ninety days."

Reid hesitated, staring at the flickering flame. "What is it? A trick candle?"

"Now would I do something like that, Junior," Nichols asked. "Now one of these two," he continued, nodding his head in Morgan and then Hudson's directions as he spoke, "would probably try it."

"Come on, Kid, blow it out before we set off a fire alarm or something," Morgan joked.

Placing his coffee cup on the desk, the young genius blew the flickering candle out. Despite Nichols reassurances, Reid was still surprised when the flame stayed out. Reaching out, he picked up the cupcake and plucked the candle from it so he could enjoy the treat later.

Nichols pushed himself away from the desk. "Don't forget, dinner at my house tonight if we don't catch a case," he added as he started walking toward his office.

Reid looked up in alarm. "I thought you said it was just going to be your family?"

"Yes, I did and at the time I invited you over it was just going to be us," Nichols said. He had known it would be harder to convince Reid to come over for dinner if he knew the rest of the team was there, however after the rough beginning that the young genius went through with the team, everyone had wanted to show Reid that he was accepted by all of them. Celebrating his ninety-day mark had seemed the perfect way to do that. "However, I added to the guest list afterwards. And no backing out, Junior. We all know where you live."

As Nichols headed for his office, Reid turned back around. Grabbing his coffee cup he took a gulp of the hot liquid. He hated social gatherings. He always seemed to say the wrong thing. Having dinner with Hotch in his wife or with Nichols and his family was one thing. Reid had gone over several times now and felt comfortable at both residencies. Knowing the whole team was going to be there was another matter entirely. He was pretty sure he still annoyed Morgan and Hudson from time to time with his rambling. The last time the three of them went out, Hudson had supplied him with a list of topics he was not allowed to talk about in his presence.

Tonight was going to be awkward and uncomfortable. Reid found himself suddenly hoping that a case would come and ruin the dinner plans. He knew it was the only way out of dinner as any made up excuse would be seen through by the people he worked with. Ninety days with this team had taught him one thing he hadn't expected to learn working for the FBI - even an IQ of 187 wasn't enough to stump a group of profilers as good as the ones he worked with.

"Want a ride tonight, Kid?" Morgan asked, causing Reid to jump.

"What?" the genius asked, glancing over at Morgan.

"Do you want a ride over to Nichols tonight? I've noticed you prefer not to drive when you can avoid it. Your apartment isn't that far out of my way to Nichols' house."

"Yeah, I'd appreciate it," Reid said, accepting the offer even as he continued to process Morgan's statement. After a moment he looked at his teammate quizzically. He had never told any of his teammates that he didn't like to drive. "How do you know I don't like to drive?"

"Reid, you own a car and yet walk the three blocks from your apartment building to the subway station, even in bad weather, to take the subway to work. You are also the only rookie I've heard of, in any law enforcement agency, that doesn't ask to drive while on the job. Hell, 'can I drive' was the first thing I asked my training officer in the Chicago PD when he asked if I had any questions."

"Me too," Hudson admitted.

"And my final piece of evidence is the fact that you drive an old Volvo that looks like you put only enough time and money into the thing to keep it running. People who enjoy driving usually cherish their cars and take an effort to keep them looking good or restore them."

"So much for what Hotch said about not profiling teammates," Reid muttered, retrieving the file that Nichols had pushed out of the way to make room for the cupcake.

The fact that Reid hadn't bothered to deny Morgan's observations told the older profiler that he was right.

"The real question is, why he doesn't like to drive," Hudson commented, looking across the partition at Reid although his words were directed toward Morgan.

"Bad experience maybe," Morgan supplied, leaning back in his chair.

"Or maybe he just isn't any good at it. Makes me wonder if the tactical driving portion of the academy training was just as bad or worse than his firearms scores."

"I did fine in that portion of the training actually," Reid supplied, raising his head to meet Hudson's gaze. "You can ask Nichols to verify that for you as we all know he has hacked into the results of the Academy Training for everybody on this team."

"I like to know what kind of people I'm working with," Nichols called out as he walked past them on the catwalk on his way to Hotch's office.

Reid glanced over at Nichols quickly before looking down at the file in front of him, his cheeks starting to feel warm. He hadn't meant for his teammate to overhear the comment.

"So how did our resident genius do with tactical driving training?" Hudson asked.

"Third highest marks in his class actually," Nichols supplied as he knocked on Hotch's door.

"Okay, so we'll scrap the 'Reid just can't drive theory'," Hudson said, looking both surprised and impressed by the information he had just received. "Though that still leaves the bad experience theory."

Reid kept his eyes on the file in front of him although he could feel his teammates' eyes still on him. He knew they wanted an answer but he was in no mood to supply one. The bad experience theory wasn't too far from the truth. Reid didn't like driving because the experience always made him nervous what with people speeding, and disobeying road signs and traffic lights. Not to mention the morons who seemed to take pleasure in cutting other people off. He didn't need that kind of stress, as his personal life provided quite enough for him.

Going back to the file that he had been working on, Reid hoped his two teammates would lose interest in him and go back to their work. While Reid's attention was focused on his work, Morgan and Hudson exchanged looks, a silent conversation going on between them as to whether to apologize to Reid or just let the subject go. Deciding it was best not to draw further attention to the exchange, the two profilers chose to let things go and silently returned to their own work. The silence didn't last long as Morgan and Hudson were soon discussing the football match-ups for the upcoming weekend. As he listened to the conversation that made absolutely no sense to him, Reid was just relieved that the focus was no longer on him.


	2. Truly Part of the Team

**AN: Happy to see the positive reaction to chapter 1 of this story. I'm thinking on shooting for updating every two weeks, on my weekend off, so expect chapter 3 two weeks from now, give or take a day. Hope you all keep enjoying this story!**

* * *

Reaching his apartment, Spencer Reid unlocked the door and gratefully slipped inside. The evening at Nichols home hadn't been terrible but he was glad that it was over. He was relieved to be able to slip into the comforting solitude of his own apartment.

Closing and locking the front door, Reid headed for his bedroom. After showering and changing into his pajamas, Reid retrieved a legal pad and pen from the night stand and headed toward the kitchen. Placing the pad and pen on the counter as he walked by, Reid poured himself a glass of milk and settled on the stool to begin writing.

 _Dear Mom,_

 _I hope this letter finds you doing well. The reports I've been getting from the staff there have all been positive. I'm sorry that we keep missing each other with the phone calls. I have tried returning your calls but I seem to have bad timing with them. In the meanwhile, I hope you have been enjoying my letters._

 _I have managed to reach my ninety-day mark at my job. There were times when I didn't think I could do it, but I remember how you always told me to keep pushing through the hard times and eventually you would make it through. Well, another milestone is reached. I'd like to think the hardest part is behind me and that I've managed to gain a bit of respect from the other guys in the last three months. For the most part people do seem more receptive of me even if I can't describe them as being overly friendly toward me, all of the time._

 _Nichols made sure that this milestone didn't go unnoticed. Not only did he bring a cupcake in to celebrate at work but he also invited the team over for dinner at his house to celebrate. The whole team was there and even though I was a bit reluctant about the whole thing it turned out okay. I enjoyed myself and it was good way for us to all get together in an informal setting - something that I think we all needed after the start we've had on this year. Like I said before, it seems to be one hard case after another and even at the office work seems to be piling up._

 _Anyway, back to this evening, the team had a friendly pool tournament while Vanessa and Haley cooked dinner. I paired up with Nichols and by the flip of a coin we took on Hotch and Gideon first. The game was close, but Nichols and I managed to win the first game. Going up against Morgan and Hudson was no easier. In fact, those two were ahead of us most of the game and probably would have beaten us if Hudson hadn't accidently knocked the eight ball into the hole prematurely. It was a lot of fun, especially with Evan, Karen, and Tara cheering us on. Tara was on her dad's side the whole time while the two younger kids cheered for whoever Nichols and I were playing against. I think that might have mostly been because Evan didn't want to be cheering for the same people that Tara was._

 _Vanessa and Haley cooked a wonderful meal and besides the fact that Hotch, Gideon and Nichols decided to embarrass me by giving speeches before we actually ate, I enjoyed it. In a way I guess it was flattering to hear my teammates say nice things about me, but you know me mom, I've never cared much for being the center of attention. I have to admit that I'm glad they didn't just let the day go by like any other day but I could have done with a little less fanfare to it all. Of all my teammates, I think Morgan understands that the most, or he respects it more than the others. I'm not really sure which. Either way he had his own way of commemorating the occasion._

 _After he joined the team last year, Morgan designed challenge coins for the team. Seems collecting them is one of his hobbies and he thought having a team coin would be a way for the team to feel a sense of unity. The coins are pretty neat. They're about the size of a half dollar with a brass coating. On one side is an eagle head with BAU Team One written around the circumference of the coin. On the other side of the coin is a set of scales with the bureau's motto - fidelity, bravery, integrity inscribed around the circumference of the coin. Morgan presented one of these coins to me tonight. It may sound silly, but I feel as though having that coin really makes me a part of the team now. I'll have to show it to you when I see next._

Reid paused in his writing of the letter to think back to the moment that Morgan had given him the coin. The dark-skinned agent had waited until the two of them were walking out to the car, Hotch and Gideon had left right after dinner both claiming work to do at home, and Hudson was still inside playing pool with Nichols.

" _Hey Kid, I've got something for you," Morgan called out as they approached Morgan's SUV._

 _Almost at the vehicle, Reid paused and turned to face his teammate. He watched as Morgan pulled something out of his pocket as he approached. Reid watched the older man curiously, wondering what was going on._

" _I probably should have given this to you when you first joined the team but . . . "_

" _You and Hudson weren't exactly thrilled to have me on the team," Reid finished when Morgan let the thought trail off._

" _Yeah," Morgan said embarrassed. "Well, that was our mistake. You've more than proved that you belong here. But, well, after I started putting it off, I had a hard time finding the right moment to give you this," he added, holding out the small object he had in his hand. "Surviving ninety days with this team seemed as good a time as any."_

 _Reid held out his hand, and Morgan dropped the object into his hand. Looking down, Reid saw that he was now holding a decorative coin. He looked back up at Morgan._

" _What's this?"_

" _A challenge coin," Morgan replied. "I had them made up last spring. With all the tension that was going on between me and Robbins at the time, I was looking for some way to ease that. To make everyone feel as though we were a team and not competing with one another. It took me awhile to come up with the design and then I had to place the order. They came in a week before Robbins left," Morgan supplied. He paused then, giving Reid the impression that Morgan was debating on whether to go into more detail or not. "It has served its purpose since then - helping with team morale and the challenges have provided some opportunities for us to bond."_

" _Challenges?" Reid asked, looking up from the coin he had been examining._

" _Come on, Reid, I thought you knew everything?" Morgan said, with a huge grin on his face._

" _No, you made the assumption that I know everything," Reid countered._

" _Well, then I fill you in on the history and the role of challenge coins while I drive you home," Morgan said, gesturing toward his SUV. "I'm going to enjoy telling the resident genius about something for a change._

Reid found himself smiling at the memory, as he thought of the coin he had tucked away safely within his messenger bag. He had a feeling that once the others knew Morgan had finally given their last member a coin, that challenges were going to be made. As he always had his bag with him, he figured it was a safe place to keep the coin.

Returning his attention back to the letter, Reid started writing down the history of the challenge coin as Morgan had relayed it to him. Afterwards, he brought the letter to an end, tucked the papers into an envelope, and addressed the envelope. Leaving the letter sitting on the counter, Reid stood and stretched his hands above his head. It was getting late and tomorrow was a work day. Downing the last of his milk, the young genius rinsed the cup and headed for bed.

* * *

Gideon walked into the conference room, the file for their next case in hand, ten minutes before ten and muttered a curse under his breath. He was still trying to catch up on paperwork and Strauss still hadn't replied to his email requesting an explanation of the denial of adding a media liaison to the team and the section chief was actively avoiding his phone calls. Giving his current time constraints, he had asked Nichols to set up for the morning briefing, the computer specialist already routinely being the one to set up the photos for the projector. The fact that the younger agent was nowhere to be seen didn't sit well with the unit chief. After the morning he'd had already, half of it spent arguing with Strauss' secretary, he at least wanted to get their case started off on the right foot.

Turning on his heel, Gideon was about to march out of the conference room in search of Nichols when said agent came striding through the door. Taking one look at Gideon, the profiler knew instantly that Gideon had been coming to look for him.

"Relax, Boss. You'll be able to start the briefing on time," Nichols told him, gesturing toward Gideon's normal place at the conference table with the stack of files he had in his hand. "Everything is ready. I was just talking to Detective Franklin. Apparently your phone has been getting a work out this morning and when he couldn't get through to you he asked to be put through to someone on the team," he informed his superior, handing Gideon the sheet of paper with the new information the local detective had faxed a little bit ago as the unit chief sat down at the table. "They found another victim this morning, though an identification on her hasn't been made," Nichols continued as he started placing files at each of the places for his teammates. "Locals are going to try matching dental records but you know how long that can take. Meanwhile, I've got a facial recognition search going, pulling up photos from local news agencies, police records and school yearbooks for Kansas City, Missouri and the surrounding areas for the last ten years."

"This is only two days since his last kill, down from the five days between the other four," Gideon commented.

"He's either devolving or something didn't go right this time around," Nichols commented, as Hotch and Reid entered the conference room.

Taking places at the table, Hotch and Reid opened the files Nichols had placed there, looking through the information contained within while Nichols double checked to make sure the most recent crime scene photos were ready for the on screen presentation. As soon as Morgan and Hudson stepped through the doorway, Gideon spoke up.

"We're all here, let's get started," the unit chief announced even though the hands on the clock hadn't quite reached ten o'clock yet. Picking up the remote, he pointed it at the screen bringing a photograph up on the screen. "About three weeks ago, police in Kansas City, Missouri stumbled upon the body of Alicia Hayes. Officers were involved in a foot chase of another suspect when the pursuit took them down the alley where Alicia's body had been dumped."

With a push of the button the photo of Alicia changed to a series of crime scene photos showing the condition her body had been found in.

"A single mother of one, who was struggling to make ends meet, Alicia worked at a local café during the day. According to friends that police interviewed, she made extra money via prostitution on nights that her two five-year-old daughters were with her paternal grandmother, the children's father having died of a drug overdose not long after the birth of the twins. As you can see in the crime scene photos she was still gagged and her wrists bound when her body was dumped. Alicia was raped and ME determined that cause of death was strangulation."

"The way he dumps the body indicates that he has no use for them after he kills them. Not only doesn't he bother to untie them but the body looks like it was simply dumped in the alley," Morgan commented, gesturing with a pen toward the photo on the screen that showed the position in which the body was found.

"Which is exactly the way Margaret Vance was found five days later in another alley two blocks east of where Alicia was found," Gideon said, changing pictures once again to a raven haired woman who barely looked to be out of her teens. "Again, she was raped and then strangled and left in the alley. This time a restaurant worker getting ready to open for breakfast found the body."

"The UnSub clearly has no remorse for what he's done. It's even likely that the abduction and/or assault took place in that general area. He probably disposes of the body in the first place he comes across," Reid speculated, his gaze no longer focused on the screen but on the hard copy of the photos in the file. "Especially as the next two bodies were found in different parts of the city."

"Yes, victim three, Sandra Ricardo, was found in the northern area of the city. She was a seventeen-year-old runaway from Independence. Five days later, Maureen Trent turns up near the river front," Gideon said, flipping through the victims pictures as they talked. He looked over to Nichols.

"We got a call this morning from Detective Franklin, who is heading up this investigation," the computer specialist said picking up on Gideon's nonverbal cue for him. He motioned to the screen and Gideon flipped to the next set of pictures. "Kansas PD discovered the body of this woman in an alley in an area well known for prostitution. Detectives there were ready to chalk the murder up to just another customer/client dispute, seems there have been quite a few in the area this winter, but thanks to the media coverage of the other recent murders one of the Kansas detectives notice the similarities - body left in the open, sexual assault and victim still bound and gagged. No ID has been made on this victim."

"So our UnSub has now crossed state lines," Hotch commented. "He definitely does not seem to be discriminate about where he finds his victims."

"But he does have a type," Morgan interjected, as Gideon brought up a screen showing all five of their victims. "All the victims are in their late teens to early-twenties and have black hair."

"All of them have shoulder-length black hair actually," Reid corrected.

Morgan looked at the young genius mildly annoyed until he looked back at the screen and realized that Reid had a point. All five of the victim's hair was roughly the same length.

"You think the hair length is really important to this UnSub."

Reid shrugged his shoulders. "I'm just making an observation at this point, but it is a similarity among all five of the victims."

"And on the surface the hair and age are the only commonality. We've got two single mothers, college student, and a runaway. None of the victims lived anywhere near one another nor do they seem to frequent the same places," Hudson supplied.

"I'll look into their electronic lives but with the exception of Maureen, our college student, I doubt there is going to be much to go on. Sandra would have been living off the grid since running away three months ago and with the exceptions of bills and utilities, I doubt our two single mothers are going to have much of an electronic print."

"Well find us what you can, Nichols," Gideon told him. He glanced around the conference room at the rest of his team. "I don't think there is much more that we'll be able to accomplish from here. Let's get out there and see what the crime scenes can tell us, we'll have at least one fresh one to go off of."

"Nichols, see if there are any other recent murders in Kansas that meet the criteria of the other ones," Hotch suggested. "The police there almost dismissed this last one. There is a chance that they missed others."

The computer specialist nodded, jotting down a note on a legal pad as a reminder. "How far back do you want me to look?"

Hotch glanced toward Gideon for the unit chief's input.

"Let's start with as far back as December for now," Gideon said. "Depending on what you come up with we'll decide if the search needs to go back further."

"You got it, Boss," Nichols replied, his mind already formulating the necessary computer inputs that would be needed to set up the search.

"Does anyone else have anything to add right now?" Gideon asked, glancing around the table. When none of his agents spoke up, he continued. "We'll meet at the airstrip in forty. Nichols I want you with us on this one. I think we're going to need all the manpower we have for this one."

"Yes, sir," Nichols replied trying to hide his excitement. He had been left behind on every case they had gone on since the case in Alabama at the beginning of the year. While that meant he hadn't had to leave his family during that time, which was nice, it also meant that while at work all he had seen were the inside walls of the BAU. As much as he loved computers, even he liked to see the field every so often. It was one of the reasons he had left the Cyber Division for the BAU.

Still, acting like a little kid in a candy store at his boss' announcement would not be professional.

"Dismissed," Gideon said.

The team all got to their feet, files in hand, and left the conference room, each of them mentally going through a checklist of things they needed to accomplish before leaving town for an indefinite amount of time. In the conference room, Gideon glanced back through the information they had again, trying to commit the facts and the faces to memory. It was times like this when he envied Spencer's eidetic memory. Though when he thought about some of the horrors he had seen on this job, he realized how that talent could be a curse. It was actually one of the doubts he'd had about bringing the young doctor onto the team. The horrors were hard enough for the rest of them to forget, for Spencer they would be impossible.

Still, the young genius had chosen the FBI on his own. Whether he was in the BAU or some other department, he'd still be exposed to the crimes they tried to solve. That choice was out of Gideon's hands. The fact was, Spencer's genius and talents, including an almost natural affinity for profiling, was a benefit to this team as he had proved time after time. Gideon would have been doing no one a favor by not bringing Reid onto the team as he wanted to be in the BAU, this department and this team would benefit by having him here. The benefits went both ways as Gideon had watch Reid become more comfortable with his position with the team and more self-confident since he had first joined back in October, especially these last few weeks.

After reviewing the information one more time, Gideon pushed all the paper and photos into the file, and stood up. He planned on stopping by his office and checking his email one last time before leaving. Having already taken care of the most pressing paperwork earlier this morning, he would then grab his go-bag and head to the air strip. The moment he stood up and glanced toward the doorway, those plans went right out the window.

"Erin, good morning," Gideon said coolly, as he noticed the section chief standing in the doorway of the conference room. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Well, given all the calls my secretary has fielded from you this morning I decided to come down and answer your inquiry in person," Strauss replied, her tone of voice just as cool as the unit chief's.

Gideon gave a short nod, and then sat back down at the conference table. He gazed at his supervisor with an 'I'm waiting' look on his face, patiently waiting for her answer.

"The bottom line is that I don't see the necessity for a media liaison that would justify the cost of adding another team member to this team. Your team functions well as is. You get the job done, more efficiently than a lot of the other teams, and with the exception of Agent Hudson, I don't recall issues with the media arising due to team members mispeaking during an interview or press conferences. Even your probationary agent, Dr. Reid, seems to be handling the media well."

"Granted, we've all learned the finer arts of negotiation and watching what we say to the public, but the simple fact is time spent with the media is time taken away from us working on the case. Not to mention, ironing out wrinkles with the local law enforcement can also delay a case getting solved. Instead of spending our time heading to the location, one of my team members has to spend time talking with the local leading up the case instead of reviewing the case, which means they've got to be brought up to speed and we lose their insight in the discussion."

"Surely, with five others involved one person doesn't make any difference."

"Perhaps if you spent some time in the field with your teams, you would understand just how much of a difference one person could make."

"Are you implying that I don't know how to do my job?" Strauss asked, her voice taking on an edge as she narrowed her eyes at Gideon.

"Not at all. Just pointing out that you don't know first hand what your teams do out in the field."

"Perhaps if you had Agent Nichols speak with the LEO while the rest of you have your discussion things would work more efficiently for you. After all, he is the technical analyst for your team and probably has the most free time of all of you."

Gideon snorted at that comment. Their section chief clearly did not have any understanding of how things worked.

"Agent Nichols probably has the least amount of free time of anyone on this team, me included. Not only does he have his duties as technical analyst for this team, but he is also a gifted profiler and helps solve technical issues that arise within this department and the Academy in between cases. Take this case for example, we've got four identified victims and one unidentified one. Not only is Nichols already starting the process of searching for information on our known victims but he is also trying to help identify the most recent victim. Asking him to speak with the LEO about what this team needs when we arrive in Kansas City seems a bit much for one person, don't you think?"

Erin Strauss glared at her unit chief, unable to come up with a counter argument to what Gideon had just pointed out.

"Perhaps," she finally conceded. "Nevertheless, unless you can clearly show me that the benefits of a media liaison will outweigh the costs, I stand by my decision. As far as I'm concerned, the subject is closed until that time."

Gideon nodded his consent. As he watched Strauss turn on her heel and stride out of the conference room, an idea was already forming in his head. If she needed to see a real life example of why they needed a media liaison, he could provide her with one. All he needed was the right set of circumstances and he was sure those would arise on their own before too long.

Getting to his feet once again, Gideon finally left the conference room automatically putting staffing concerns out of his mind in order to focus on their current case.


	3. Challenged

**AN: So, sorry folks. In the hype of the big snowstorm hitting the area, I totally forgot about it being time to update this story. However, I have survived the snowstorm, so here is your post before the end of the weekend. Hope you enjoy.**

 **Also, as I keep forgetting, let me send a shout out to my beta for this story, Ahmose Inarus, for the wonderful job she is doing catching my mistakes!**

* * *

As soon as the plane was in the air, discussion of the case had already assumed. Nichols had his laptop opened and remotely linked to his main computers back at headquarters. The technical analyst had left strict orders with the building's janitorial staff not to step a foot into his office while he was away. The last thing he needed was for his computers to accidently get tuned off at the wrong moment. He had made arrangements with another BAU technical analyst to check in with him daily to make sure things on that end of the link were running smoothly. Information about the two current searches was scrolling by on the screen, but nothing had been flagged by the system as pertaining to any of their victims.

Reid, a map spread out on the table in front of him, was sitting next to Nichols. He was listening to the conversations going on as he worked on the geographical profile. Gideon was sitting opposite of the young genius, a legal pad open on his lap as he took notes during the discussion. Across the aisle, Morgan and Hudson had turned chairs sideways to face the group at the big table while Hotch had taken a seat at the end of the long bench seat. He had been elected by Gideon to chat with Detective Franklin about what accommodations the team would need upon their arrival.

"So what's that map telling you, Kid?" Morgan asked as he watched Reid plot points and draw lines on his map.

"Not a whole lot," Reid confessed, putting down his pen and leaning back in the chair. "The dump sites are all over the place, so I don't think the geographical profile is going to do us a whole lot a good in this case as it doesn't really narrow down our search area."

"So all of your coloring was a waste of time," Hudson commented, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"On the contrary, the fact that the geographical area of his crimes is so spread out does tell us something. We can eliminate two of the four typical offender styles that Rossmo came up with. Because the dump sites are so widespread we know the UnSub is not a Hunter, who searches for their victim close to their home, or a Trapper, who creates the situation that draws the victim to him," Reid replied, totally unaware of his coworker's sarcasm.

"Which leaves us with Poacher or Troller," Gideon supplied. "Is he traveling in search of his victims or is he finding his victims while involved in other activities and merely taking advantage of the situation?"

"The Poacher would fit in with an organized killer," Nichols commented, not looking from his computer screens. "It would mean our UnSub plans out his murders before he commits them which would explain the exact five days between the first murders."

"But he only waited two days between his two most recent murders," Morgan reminded them.

"So, the UnSub just happened to get an opportunistic situation every five days for four murders," Hudson commented. "Sounds a bit unlikely to me."

"So, he's most likely a Poacher," Gideon supplied, his mind analyzing the information his agents were putting forward. "And while the way he's seemingly planned out the selection of his victims fit an organized killer the way the bodies are left does not. He doesn't try to conceal the bodies, and he doesn't bother untiing his victims either. He carries out his plans with the victim and then goes about his business."

"Mixed killer then?" Nichols posed, finally looking away from his screens to survey his co-worker's expressions. He noticed a faraway look on his youngest teammate's face. "What's on your mind, Junior?" the computer specialist asked, knowing that sometimes Reid still needed encouragement to share his thoughts with the whole group.

"Just thinking about another case that was similar to this - the Atlanta Child Murders. Between the summer of 1979 and the spring of 1981, at least 28 African American children were killed in the Atlanta area. Though it isn't believed that he committed all of the murders, and he maintains his innocence, Wayne Williams was convicted of two of the murders. Like in this case, there was little remorse shown in the disposal of the children's bodies, police didn't initially link the murders, and though physically similar the children came from different backgrounds. Some of the murders were actually eventually dismissed as being unrelated. The murders were linked to 12 specific streets in that instance though, unlike the large area in which these bodies were found."

"How was Williams caught?" Morgan asked, genuinely interested for a change.

"FBI profilers said that the next body would be dumped into a body of water to remove evidence, leading local authorities to stake out the James Jackson Parkway/south Cobb Drive bridge. The last night of the stakeout, a splash was heard and a white 1970 Chevrolet station wagon was seen driving away from the bridge leading to the arrest of Williams."

"As fascinating as that case is, I'm not sure it's going to help us any with our current case," Gideon interjected, wanting to get the conversation back on their case.

Before anything else could be said, Nichols' laptop emitted a chime. As the computer specialist looked down at the screen, the other agents on the plane all looked in his direction awaiting an explanation for the chime. The answer was soon forthcoming.

"I've got the identity of our fifth victim - Mindy Tumulo," Nichols informed them, his eyes still on the screen as his fingers manipulated the keys. "She was born in Kansas City, Kansas. Dropped out of high school during her senior year and got married a month later. No employment records are coming up for her. I'll be able to tell you more about her and her husband by the time we land in Missouri."

"Good, it'll be helpful to have that information when I check out the crime scene when we land. Nichols, I want you to go to the station and get things set up there. I'll join you there after I visit the crime scene."

"Got it, Boss."

"Morgan and Hudson, the two of you will go check out the dump sites for the third and fourth victims. Reid, you and Hotch will check out the first two sites. Hopefully something at the dump sites will give us something more to go on."

With assignments given, and nothing more to discuss on the case except reviewing what they had so far, the group conversation came to an end. After taking the preliminary information about the now identified victim back to Hotch to pass along to Detective Franklin, Nichols became busy with his computer, searching for information on Mindy Tumulo. Gideon and Reid lost themselves in their own thoughts about the case, continuing to look at their information from different angles while Morgan and Hudson borrowed Reid's map and planned out the best plan of attack for the two sites they had to visit.

Morgan was awkwardly folding up the map when Hotch finally got off the phone with the Detective Franklin, and walked up to the table the team was still gathered around. Glancing up briefly, Gideon moved over to the seat next to the window to give Hotch a place to sit.

"Everything squared away?" the unit chief asked as Hotch slid into the seat he had just vacated.

Hotch nodded. "Agents from the Kansas City office will have SUV's waiting for us at the airport. I requested three given the fact that we already have five crime sites to work with. Detective Franklin will also meet us when we land. Up until this point the murders haven't received much media attention, which giving the links to prostitution isn't surprising. However, Franklin says these last two murders have gotten a lot of coverage. The police are getting a lot of phone calls inquiring about what they are doing to keep people safe. There was even an increase in calls to the police last night of women calling saying someone suspicious is following them."

"Panic is starting to set in," Gideon said with a nod. "We should probably arrange for a preliminary news conference as soon as we land. I'll coordinate it with Detective Franklin when we get there as I want a local presence for it. We don't want to give the impression that we're taking over because the locals are in over their heads."

"Although they are," Morgan commented. "This guy is operating on both sides of the river now. State and city police don't work with us well, cooperating with one another to solve a case isn't likely to happen. More than likely we're going to run into the Kansas cops trying to solve the case before the Missouri Cops."

"All the more reason not to come off as yet a third entity trying to solve this case first," Gideon told him, glancing over at the dark-skinned agent. Morgan gave him a brief nod as Gideon looked over at Hotch. "I want you and Reid to take one of the SUVs and check out the areas where the first two victims were found while Morgan and Hudson check out the third and fourth sites. I'd like to have Detective Franklin accompany me to the location of where the fifth body was found while Nichols gets set up at the station," he told the former prosecutor, bringing Hotch up to date on their plans for when they landed.

"Looks like it is going to be a long afternoon," Hotch commented.

"Let's just hope our UnSub doesn't escalate again and gives us a bit of time to get up to speed."

Hotch nodded thoughtfully before reaching into his inside jacket pocket for something. "Somehow, I have a feeling that we're all going to want a drink after this case so why don't we decide who is buying right now," he said, laying his team challenge coin down on the table as he glanced around at each of his gathered teammates.

Morgan and Gideon immediately reached into the front pockets of their jeans and produced their coins. Nichols reached into one of his equipment bags and produced his challenge coin. Realizing what was going on, Reid retrieved his coin from the pocket of his messenger bag that he had stored it in. As the genius' coin joined the other four on the table, Hotch, Gideon, Nichols and Morgan all looked toward Hudson.

"Mine is in my desk drawer back in Quantico," Hudson admitted reluctantly. " I didn't realize the whole team had challenge coins again," he added, glaring at Morgan.

Morgan shrugged. "I told you that I was going to give the kid one just as soon as the right opportunity arose. His ninety-day mark seemed like as good a time as any. Besides, you're supposed to have the coin with you at all times anyway."

"I don't even come on all the trips and I remembered my coin," Nichols added, more than willing to rub a little salt into the open wound as Hudson had caught him off guard the last time that a challenge that had been issued. Hudson had placed a challenge to him and Morgan in the bullpen and Nichols' coin had been in his office.

"So, looks like you're buying the drinks once we solve this case, Hudson," Hotch said, reaching out to retrieve his coin.

"Yeah, yeah. I know the rules," Hudson muttered as the other agents retrieved their coins.

"We'll at least cut you a break, Hudson," Gideon commented. "No more challenges until we get back to Quantico. Agreed?" the unit chief asked, looking around at his subordinates.

Hotch, Morgan, Nichols and Reid all agreed to the terms, and the agents returned to their individual activities for the duration of the flight.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Gideon followed Detective Franklin into the detective's station house following their visit to the fifth dump site. Gideon hadn't missed the tension between Franklin and his Kansas counterparts as soon as they had arrived on site. Still, the Kansas detective in charge of the investigation of Mindy Tumulo's death was cooperative.

Walking into the conference room that had been set aside for the BAU's use, Gideon addressed Nichols who was sitting at the table in the center of the room. The FBI tech analyst had two laptops opened on the table in front of him.

"Did you get word of the press conference out to the local media?"

"Yes, I did. Expect the local press and news stations to start gathering out in front of the station shortly in anticipation of hearing from you and Detective Franklin," Nichols replied.

"And exactly what do you want me to tell these guys?" the Kansas City, Missouri police detective asked, looking over at Gideon.

"Just give them an overview of the case, assure them that the authorities are actively searching for the culprit, and stress vigilance among the populace. The best way for the women of this city to stay safe is to not put themselves in dangerous situations."

The detective nodded his acceptance of Gideon's words.

Gideon looked back in Nichols' direction. "What about our fifth victim? What did you find out about her?"

Pulling up a window on one of the laptops, Nichols began to speak. "Mindy Tumulo was a Kansas City, Kansas native. She dropped out of high school in her junior year and married Mark Tumulo, a recent graduate of the same high school. Mark was mediocre football play in high school, graduated close to last in his class and got a job with a trash company following graduation. Mindy has no employment records and tax returns for the couple show only Mark's wages. However, what spending records that are available for the couple seem to indicate that they live above their means - there is more going out monthly than what is coming in which seems to indicate that the couple had another source of income that was never reported."

"Either Mindy or Mark was doing some kind of work under the table," Gideon supplied, making a mental note to have somebody try to talk to Mark Tumulo as the earliest time possible. "What about our other victims?"

"And I see we are on the same wavelength today," Nichols commented, as fingers danced over the keys of his computers. Not having Reid's eidetic memory, the computer specialist wanted the facts in front of him to be sure he relayed them correctly. "Alicia Hayes, our first victim and mother of two, worked full time at a café. Records indicate that her income, including tips, roughly equaled her rent, electric and phone bills for the month. That still leaves food, clothing, school supplies and doctors and dentist appointments left to cover for things the family would need. There are no records for government financial aid for the family. Other than accounts with a pediatrician and a hospital, both of which were receiving minimal payments monthly, there are no outstanding debts in her name. Granted she could have family helping her out, but friends' have indicated that Alicia did use prostitution to supplement her income."

"Our second single mother's financial records aren't so clear cut. Depending on how frugal she was, it's possible that she was stretching her income, child support payments, and food stamps she was receiving far enough to cover monthly expenses. It wouldn't leave much in the way for frills though. Next would be our runaway. Your guess is as good as mine as to how she was getting the things she needed to make it by, though chances are they weren't on the up and up. Which brings us to Maureen Trent, our college student. She has no employment records. Tuition was being paid for by scholarships and her parents. Her parents also made a monthly contribution to their daughter's bank account. However, Maureen's spending far out did that monthly allowance. There are other deposits to the account at irregular intervals but no indication as to where the money was coming from. She had another source of income, but I'm not able to figure out what it was from the electronic information highway."

"So at least three of the five victims have an unknown source of income, and one other victim's means of survival is undetermined," Gideon said, thinking out loud. "I think our first order of business is to try to determine where the extra money was coming from as it could prove to be our link between the victims."

"Already ahead of you on that one, Boss," Nichols said. "I've contacted family and friends for all the victims, except for Sandra Ricardo, and asked them to come in to speak with us. Giving that Sandra was a runaway, I figure her parents are not going to be able to provide us with any useful information."

"Good work," Gideon replied, pleased with the agent's initiative. The sooner they could find a link between their victims the greater chance they had of stopping the UnSub before he struck again.

Before anything else could be said between the three men in the room, quick footsteps could be heard approaching. As the three law enforcement officers glanced toward the corridor, Spencer Reid came striding quickly into the room, followed closely by Agent Hotchner.

"Nichols, can you get a list of all businesses within a block radius of where each of the dump sites?" Reid asked, as he came to a stop across the table from the technical analyst.

"Of course, but can I ask where you are going with this?" Nichols asked, his fingers already typing information into the necessary spaces to conduct the requested search.

"Reid noticed that there was at least one bar within a block of where the first two bodies were found," Hotch supplied.

"If the other three dump sites turn up the same pattern, the bars could be where the UnSub is finding his victim's."

"Several local bar owners have been arrested for running prostitution rings over the last few years. We've got suspicions of some other ones but no solid proof," Detective Franklin supplied.

"And the area where Mindy's body turned up is a known prostitution area," Gideon recalled.

By this time, all eyes were on Nichols as the agent studied his computer screen.

"And score another one for the genius, folks," Nichols commented a couple of minutes later. "A bar can be found less than a block from each of the other three dump sites. Somehow, I don't think our UnSub is simply looking for a place to grab a drink after dumping a body."

Gideon took a few moments to contemplate the new information. "Looks like we're going to be putting in some extra hours today, guys. We'll all get up to date on the new information once Morgan and Hudson get back and grab dinner. Then I think we need to split up, and check out the bars near these dump sites. We'll show the victims pictures around and see if they frequented the places," Gideon informed them. He looked toward Nichols. "Any of those people you contacted planning on stopping by today?"

Nichols nodded. "Mark Tumulo said he would stop by after work," he said glancing down at the clock in the bottom corner of his computer screen. "Which, if he gets off at the time he told me means that he should be here shortly. A friend of Maureen's should be stopping by shortly too."

Gideon nodded. "You and Hotch can handle those while I go deal with the media," he instructed before glancing over at Detective Franklin. "Are you about ready to get this show on the road?" he asked the local detective.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Franklin replied, motioning to the door.

Gideon and Franklin left the conference room, leaving Nichols to bring Hotch and Reid up to date on the information he and Gideon had been discussing before the two agents had returned from the field.

*Information about the Atlanta Child Murders was found at Wikipedia.


	4. Checking Out The Bars

At six o'clock that evening, the FBI profilers found themselves gathered around the table in the conference room they had been given to work out of it. Several pizza boxes, paper plates, napkins, and sodas had replaced the computers and files that had occupied the table earlier. It wasn't the first time the profilers of the BAU had eaten their dinner at the police station while working on a case and none of them doubted that it would be the last.

"So, I finally got a hit on the search for similar murders in the area recently," Nichols said, addressing the entire group as the team gathered around the table to dig into the pizza. "Erin Singer was found by Kansas City, Kansas PD in a dumpster outside of The Watering Horse. She was still bound when found and her murder was exactly five days before our first known victim here in Missouri," Nichols continued, picking up a paper plate.

"Which means that she could have been our UnSub's first," Hudson commented, flipping open one of the pizza boxes. He wrinkled his nose as he took in the contents of the box. "What kind of pizza is this?"

Hotch glanced briefly over at the box that Hudson had opened as he lifted a piece of pepperoni pizza out of another box. "That would be the Hawaiian pizza," he commented. "It has ham and pineapple on it."

"Pineapple does not belong on pizza," Hudson commented, letting the lid to the box fall open.

"Sure it does," Reid replied, as he reached in for a slice of the Hawaiian pizza.

Morgan grinned at the face that Hudson made in Reid's direction even as he opened the box of Supreme pizza that he knew Hudson was looking for. "So, we have a sixth bar we need to check out tonight, now?" he asked, trying to direct the conversation back to their case instead of pizza toppings.

"No because The Watering Horse was shut down shortly after Erin Singer's body was found," Nichols replied. "Erin had been arrested for prostitution several times over the last five years. Her death called attention to the bar, and the owner, one Paul Norton, was arrested and convicted of Pandering. Seems along with running The Watering Horse he also allowed several prostitutes to operate out of a back room of the bar."

"And again we have the link to prostitution," Gideon commented.

"And the friend of Maureen's that we talked to confirmed that the college student did supplement her income by that means," Hotch supplied, as he and Reid had talked to the friend when she had come into the station. "I think that we can safely assume that our UnSub is targeting prostitutes. The question now is why? I think our best lead is to return to the bars near where the victims were found and start asking questions. If the UnSub is locating his victims in the bars, then one of the employees may have noticed somebody watching people or acting suspicious."

Gideon nodded as he sat down at the table with his plate of pizzas in front of him. "Proceed with caution though. The Watering Horse was shut down because of a prostitution ring, which means there is a chance these other bars are involved in the same thing. It may have something to do with our case or it may be separate but either way we could spook people like Paul Norton and have more than just our UnSub to worry about."

"This case just keeps getting better by the minute," Hudson muttered under his breath although each of his teammates heard him. The former New York police officer had found his supreme pizza and was taking the unoccupied chair between Morgan and Reid.

"Just stay on your toes," Hotch said, echoing Gideon's caution. He looked in Hudson's direction as he continued. "We want to try finding this guy before he claims another victim. These women are doing what they feel is necessary to survive and they don't deserve to die this way."

"At least we've found another connection between the victims besides the hair color and length. With five victims it isn't a coincidence that they are all prostitutes," Morgan commented after swallowing his latest bit of pizza. "The question is, why is he targeting these particular prostitutes."

"The fact that all of the victims have the same hair color and length could suggest that these victims represent somebody in the UnSub's life who he's angry with or feels that they have wronged him in some way," Reid supplied. He was holding his slice of pizza up in midair, having paused to talk. Glancing to his left, he noticed Hudson staring at him. "Did I say something wrong?" Reid asked self-consciously.

"No," Hudson replied his eyes not leaving Reid's pizza. "I'm just trying to figure out who can eat that stuff, let alone was crazy enough to put those toppings together in the first place."

"Believe it or not, despite its name, Hawaiian Pizza gets its origins from Canada and not Hawaii," Reid replied without missing a beat. "The first Hawaiian pizza is thought to have been served in Chatham around 1962 by Sam Panopoulos. As for how he came up with the combination of ham, bacon and Pineapple, it seems that he was simply experimenting with toppings and this combination," Reid said, holding his slice of pizza up slightly, "was an instant success."

Not having expected such a detailed explanation, Hudson glanced over at Morgan and shot him a 'help me out of this mess' look.

"You're the one that brought the subject up," Morgan told Hudson in response to the other man's silent plea.

Though smiling himself, Gideon decided to put a stop to the conversation before it changed from its current amicable status. "Pizza trivia aside, we need to decide who is going where tonight," Gideon told them. "I want everyone in pairs, which gives us three groups to cover five bars so two groups are going to have to cover two places."

"Being across the river, whoever goes to the Pale Dog Tavern should be the group that only visits that one bar," Hotch said, referring to the bar near where the latest victim had been found over on the Kansas side of the city.

"Sounds reasonable," Gideon agreed, looking in Hotch's direction. "How about you and Reid go check out that one and the rest of us will split up the four on this side of the river," he suggested. He paused for acknowledgment from his two agents and then continued. "Morgan and Hudson, why don't the two of you visit the bars near the sites you checked out earlier today as you already know the area."

"Sounds good," Morgan replied.

"Nichols, you and I will check out the bars near the first and second dump sites."

"You go it, boss," the computer specialist replied, thrilled to be leaving the station.

"Check out the bars and then head to the hotel. It'll be late by the time everyone gets back and we might as well discuss what we find after some sleep. We'll meet in the hotel lobby at eight a.m. I want to get an early start tomorrow."

With a plan for the night mapped out, the conversation turned to lighter topics while the group of profilers finished their meals.

* * *

"Look around. Quite a few of our patrons stick out. It's an art form for them, Sugar," the waitress that Reid had been questioning replied, gesturing with the empty tray around the room.

Dr. Spencer Reid did as the waitress suggested and looked around the place, although both he and Hotch had done their own silent surveillance the moment they walked into the Pale Dog Tavern. As with most bars, the lighting was dim and the atmosphere was loud. The clientele in this particular bar was also on the rowdy side and predominately male. Adding to the noise level was a band set up in the corner of the bar, which although Reid would never claim to be an expert on music, wasn't very good.

As for the waitress' assessment that the bar's patrons stuck out, Reid had to admit that she had a point. From where he stood, the FBI agent could see quite a collection of visible piecing, jewelry, different colored hair and tattoos. Reid found himself pondering how many more piercing and tattoos were hidden by articles of clothing.

"Right now, you and your partner are the only two that seem out of place," she added, looking him up and down as she took in his appearance.

Reid knew his slacks, dress shirt, tie and sweater vest stuck out in the bar full of more casually dressed people, some of whom were obviously bikers. "Point taken," Reid replied, glancing over at the bar briefly where Hotch was engaging the bar tender in a conversation. The older agent's suit, tie, and dress shoes clearly stated that this wasn't his usual stomping ground.

"As for somebody in here watching others, well, Sugar, it's a bar. Being watched is an occupational hazard. Hell, if they tip well, I'll even let them do a little touching."

Reid just nodded. Growing up in Las Vegas, not much surprised him and he knew that the waitress' attitude was common place.

"Well thank-you for your time," Reid told her, giving the waitress a smile.

"Anytime," the waitress replied as she turned and headed for the bar, her body language saying that she was more than happy to be done with the conversation.

Left alone again, Reid scanned the bar looking for someone else to engage in conversation that might provide them with some information. So far, he hadn't found anyone who had any helpful information or who would admit to recognizing Mindy Tumulo from the photo that he had. Reid had a suspicion that the bouncer he had spoken to had recognized the photo but wasn't going to admit to it.

Glancing in the direction of that particular bouncer, Reid found the guy watching him. Reid's instincts told him that the guy was nervous about something but whether it was related to the case or not, the profiler couldn't be sure. Seeing that the guy was a couple inches taller than him and twice his side, Reid wasn't about to press the issue. He already felt out of place in the bar, and though he was carrying a gun, the genius wasn't about to go start pushing people's buttons in the crowded environment.

Feeling increasingly uneasy, Reid decided to meet back up with Hotch. Though he couldn't put his finger on it, he felt like something was about to go down. He had only taken a few steps when he felt a hand on his arm. Turning he found another one of the tavern's waitresses standing at his side. Younger than the one he had just ended his conversation with, her black hair was pulled up in a high ponytail. The fact that their UnSub could view her as a potential target immediately flashed through his head.

"That girl in the photo, I knew her," the young woman said quietly when she saw that she had Reid's attention.

"And you are?"

"April," the waitress replied, her eyes darting around nervously before she took Reid's arm and pulled him in the direction of the back of the bar.

Despite his earlier uneasy feeling, Reid followed April without protest. If she did know their victim then they might finally get some useful information.

Finding an empty booth at the back of the room, April slid into it, her back to the rest of the room. She tucked the tray she was carrying on the seat next to her, out of sight and motioned for Reid to sit down across from her. The young profiler did so, even as he glanced around. The table was hidden from part of the room, and Reid noted that he didn't have a visual on any of the bouncer or Hotch. An unmarked door, presumably leading to another room as it didn't have an emergency exit above it, was only a few feet away. Despite the crowd in the bar, this area of the bar was relatively uncrowded.

"So, you know this girl?" Reid asked, holding out the photo of Mindy as he slid the strap of his bag over his shoulder and rested the bag and his coat on the seat next to him.

"Knew," April confirmed with a slight nod. "She's dead, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is," Reid replied. "Was she a friend? Did she work here?"

"More of an acquaintance than a friend really," April told him. "As for working here, In a way you could say that she did."

"I don't understand," Reid said, shaking his head slightly.

"Well, she wouldn't be on any employment records for the bar, but then Jason operates two businesses out of this place, though the second isn't exactly legal," April supplied softly.

"Do you know what this second business is?"

April nodded her head. "He's got a group of girls who sell their services to the more regular clientele of the bar. Some of the girls are also waitresses but for the most part, working out of the back room is all they do," April told him, inclining her head in the direction of the door that Reid had noticed.

"Are you one of the waitresses that work both jobs?" Reid asked, in what he hope was a tactful enough manner, that April would continue to talk to him.

"Well, maybe a time or two," April admitted slowly. "It's not something I'm proud of but sometimes you have to do desperate things to survive. It started when Stewart, one of the bouncers, approached me about it. He heard me talking to one of the other waitresses about trying to pick up one of her shifts so I could make my rent. He told me there was another way to make the money if I was willing. I try to make ends meet honestly but sometimes the tips just aren't there."

"I'm not here to judge," Spencer told her, knowing all to well about doing things in order to survive. How many times growing up had he forged his mother's signature or pretended to be her on the phone so that people didn't realize that she wasn't capable of taking care of him. As hard as his childhood had been, the last thing he wanted was to be taken away from his mother. "When was the last time you saw Mindy?"

"The other night. The night before she was killed," April replied, a noticeable shudder going through her at the thought of someone she knew being murdered.

"Did you see her leave here with anyone?"

April shook her head. "I was working as a waitress that night. I just saw her a few times in the bar that night, looking for customers. I didn't really pay attention too much but every time I noticed her she was alone."

"Can you show me the room the girls work out of?" Reid asked, refraining from looking over his shoulder at the door. He didn't want to attract any attention to them.

"Will it help you find who killed Mindy?" April asked, clearly hesitant to comply with the last request.

"It could," Reid replied, wanting to encourage April's cooperation without lying to the woman.

"Okay, then," April said, getting to her feet. Reaching up, she pulled her hair out of the ponytail and let it fall down around shoulders.

Before Reid knew what was going, April had pulled him to his feet. She looped on an arm through his and cuddled up close to his side. Looking down at her, Reid found April smiling at him seductively.

"Right this way," April told him softly, starting to lead him in the direction of the door. Her voice hadn't changed from the tentative, fear-filled voice she had been speaking to him in, which made Reid realize that her behavior was an act so that they wouldn't draw suspicion going into the back room.

Forcing himself to smile back at her, Reid let himself be escorted through the door, completely forgetting about his messenger bag that still rested on the seat of the booth.

* * *

Turning from the bartender that was proving to be uncooperative, Morgan scanned the bar in search of his partner. The dark-skinned profiler spotted Hudson at a small table, engaging a waitress in a conversation. The smile on the other agent's face, told Morgan that Hudson was putting on the charm. He only hoped it was in an effort to get information on their case and not a phone number.

Picking up the coke he had ordered from the bartender at the beginning of the unfruitful conversation, Morgan stepped away from the bar. Winding his way through the crowd of people, the agent made his way to where Hudson was sitting. By the time he reached the table, the waitress had disappeared. Morgan slid into a chair across from Hudson.

"So, did you get her number?" Morgan asked, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a sip of the bubbly liquid.

"Actually, yes," Hudson admitted, picking up the napkin that was sitting next to his glass. In black ink, a number was scrawled across the white surface. "Not that I asked."

"Of course not," Morgan replied slyly, placing his glass on the table.

"You're one to talk. I saw the blonde trying to drag you out on the dance floor," Hudson countered.

"Can I help it if women find me irresistible?" Morgan told him, flashing his partner a quick smile before growing serious again. "Seriously though, find anything out?"

"Not really. I got a couple of guys to admit they saw Sandra Ricardo around her a few times. Of course, giving her age, I'm not surprised. People don't want to admit to seeing her in or around a bar. Other than that, I haven't gotten anything useful. If anyone has seen anyone suspicious hanging about they're not admitting to it."

"Yeah, I ran into the same thing myself," Morgan said, casually looking around the place.

For the most part, The Oasis, seemed to be home to mostly business types and younger couples out for an evening away from home. The dress was casual but conservative and modest. Though there was a buzz of conversation and laughter about the place, you didn't have to shout to be heard. Not the usual type of place that prostitutes would work out of.

"I don't think we're going to get anywhere hanging around here," Morgan said after a few moments. "What do you say we finish our drinks and then go check out Frank's Bar and Grill?"

Hudson nodded his agreement to the suggestion as he took a drink of his own soft drink. Swallowing the ice-cold liquid, he grinned at Morgan. "Think the place is known for their hot dogs?" Hudson asked cheekily.

Morgan groaned at the bad joke even as he grabbed another napkin out of the napkin holder, balled it up, and tossed it across the table at his partner.


	5. Arrested

**AN: Have no excuse other than I just didn't get around to updating this weekend until now. But now that you've all waited patiently, here's the next chapter of the story.**

* * *

The dim lighting of the Pale Dog Tavern was presence in the backroom that April led Reid into. However, unlike the rest of the bar, this back room maintained a quiet atmosphere as the door shut behind the waitress and the young profiler. Reid cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the door, briefly wondering if it had been such a good idea to come back here without letting Hotch know where he was going. The young genius pushed the thought aside figuring that it would be counterproductive to remedy that situation now. Besides, it wasn't like he had left the premises, Reid reasoned as he took in his surroundings.

Soft music now filled the air, though Reid was unable to determine exactly where it came from. Reid noted that there was something relaxing about the music as he looked around the partitioned off room. The profiler surmised that the partitions provide semi-private locations for the patrons of this room. Soft murmurs drifting through the heavy curtains hanging over the entrances to the cubicles told him that at least some of the cubicles formed by the partitions were currently in use. Directly opposite of the door they had come through, a glowing red sign marked the emergency exit.

A slight tug on his arm, told Reid that April wanted him to follow her. The dark-haired waitress silently led him toward one of the partitioned off areas. Reid quietly wondered how she knew which cubicles wouldn't be occupied. The question was answered almost immediately as the young profiler watched April take off one of the gold bangles she was wearing and slipped it over a peg on the left side of the curtain. Glancing around, Reid now noticed that bangles hung on pegs at several of the cubicles. He counted at least four before he was pulled through the curtain by April.

The cubicle that Reid found himself in had a cozy feel to it. Several, presumably battery operated, lanterns hanging from brackets on the walls illuminated the area. On one side of the cubicle, two red cushioned chairs sat on opposite sides of a small, black round table. Across from this area, a cozy looking red couch sat against the other wall.

"Do all of the cubicles look like this," Reid asked softly, mindful of the potential of being overheard by the people in the other cubicles.

April nodded as she walked the short distance to the couch and perched on the edge of it. It didn't take a profiler to see that the raven-haired young woman was nervous.

Not wanting to add to her nervousness, Reid took the couple of steps necessary to reach the closest chair. Pulling it out from under the table, he turned it to face the couch and sat down himself.

"This room is supposed to provide a quiet, secluded place for the patrons who are looking for a little more than a cold drink to get their fill, if you know what I mean," April supplied quietly as she stared at a spot on the floor between them. "For the girls providing these services, it's a safer environment than working the streets. The fact that a percentage of what we earn from our customers is a fair trade for the added feeling of security seeing as most of the time the men using these services are content to keep what happens here confined to this one room. They're simply here to blow off some steam and don't want anyone knowing about their extracurricular activities."

"Have you ever been asked by a customer to leave with him?" Reid asked, trying to understand every nuance about what happened in this back room of the Pale Dog Tavern in the hopes that it would help figure out how their UnSub was finding his victims.

"I haven't, no," April replied, finally looking up to meet Reid's gaze. "And if I was, I wouldn't do it. I'm ashamed enough to have to resort to this kind of work to make ends meet. The last thing I want is to risk anyone finding out what I'm doing. Nor do I want to take the chance of leaving the bar. At least here the bouncers try to look out for us."

"But it does happen?"

"I've seen a girl leave with a customer from time to time. Usually it's one of the regular clients."

"Did you ever see Mindy leave with a man she met here?" Reid asked, wondering if this was how their killer was finding his victims. If the UnSub left the bars with their victims then it was possible that someone might be able to provide even a crude description of him.

However, April shook her head slowly in response, the ends of her black hair brushing against her shoulders. "No. Mindy always arrived alone and left the Pale Dog alone. The only time I ever saw her with anyone was when I glimpsed her heading back here," she told him.

Watching the waitress as she spoke, Reid could tell that there was something else that she wasn't saying. The tone in her voice, inability to maintain eye contact, and the subtle tapping of her fingertips on her thigh all gave away her nervousness. What Reid wasn't yet able to pinpoint was if April was nervous because of fear of retaliation about revealing what she knew about what took place here, because of a feeling of shame from having been involved in prostitution, or just because she was talking to him.

"Please, tell me anything you may have noticed or seen. Even something that seems insignificant might give us a lead and I believe you want to help me catch Mindy's killer or you wouldn't have approached me."

"She didn't deserve to die," April said. "She wasn't a bad person just desperate."

"I thought you said you didn't know her?"

"I didn't but I could see her unease when she'd come into the tavern looking for a customer. She didn't do this because she wanted to, but because she felt she had to. It's easy to spot those girls when you know what that desperation feels like."

Reid nodded, filing the information away. If they could figure out why Mindy felt that she needed to earn money this way, perhaps they would uncover another similarity among the victims.

Before anything else could be said between the pair, the sound of the doors being forcefully opened, disrupted the relaxing atmosphere created by the soft music. Reid was instantly on his feet even as a booming voice echoed through the room.

"KCPD, nobody move!"

There were a couple of screams from the other girls in the room and several grumbled curses from the men, as the hurried footsteps of the police echoed through the room as the spread out. Reid guessed that there were at least twenty officers in the raiding party from the sounds he heard. A soft sob from behind him caused Reid to glance over his shoulder to find April sitting with her face hidden behind her hands, clearly upset by the turn of events.

Before he could think of, let alone say, anything reassuring the curtain of the cubicle they were in was pushed aside.

"We have a gun!" the lead officer called out.

Not wanting to alarm the officer and cause him to act rashly, Spencer Reid raised his hand in the air slowly even as he spoke. "I'm an FBI agent working on a case," he informed the officer pointing his own gun at him. Without moving anything but his eyes, Reid looked around for the bag which held his credentials before realizing that he had never picked it up of the seat when April had led him to this room.

The officer who had shouted the warning about the gun looked skeptical, as did the younger officer standing behind him, his own gun also trained on Reid. As he stared at the two barrels, Reid desperately hoped that neither office had a twitchy trigger finger.

"How about you try a more believable story for being here," the older officer scoffed. "You don't even look old enough to legally be in this bar, let alone an agent."

Though the look on his face said he shared his fellow officer's sentiment, the younger officer wasn't quite so willing to just disregard the information without following proper procedure. "Do you have your badge on you?" he asked, earning him a quick glance of contempt from the officer standing a couple of steps in front of him.

"It's in my messenger bag which I left in the main room," Reid replied, the words sounding lame even to him and he knew they were the truth. _~I need to start carrying the badge in a pocket when I get through this, ~_ the young genius told himself.

"If you're going to be involved in activities like this you seriously need to learn to come up with better lies," the older officer replied. "Now both of you, face the wall, palms on the wall."

"Just do what they say, April," Reid told the young waitress even as he moved to follow the officer's instructions. He was confident the situation would work itself out. What he wasn't so sure about was whether or not he would survive the embarrassment of this situation once Morgan and Hudson caught wind of what happened, not to mention other agents back at the BAU.

"I think that is the first smart thing you've said, pal," the older officer said as Reid placed his hands on the wall.

Making sure his younger partner still had him covered, the older officer stepped behind Reid. Still gripping his gun in his right hand, the Kansas City, Kansas police officer reached out with his left hand and slipped the Glock 17 from its holster.

"We're clear," the officer called out.

The announcement was then followed by another officer declaring the scene secure.

"My supervisor, Agent Hotchner, is in the main area of the bar," Reid said as he continued to look at the wall. "He can clear this all up."

"Well I'll give you this, you're persistent," the older officer said with a laugh as he put his own gun back in its holster.

"Maybe we should follow up on his story, Smith," the younger officer countered, the suggestion sounding nervous. "It shouldn't take long, and do you really want to be responsible for falsely arresting a federal agent."

Smith laughed again. "You really are gullible, Reynolds. You need to break yourself of that really quick or you're going to spend you career on wild goose chases. Guys like him, they don't want people knowing what they're really doing despite the squeaky clean image they portray to the world. They'll come up with any excuse possible to try to conceal their activities in places like this."

Knowing what it was like to be a young new officer, Reid was not surprised when Reynolds did not argue with his older co-worker further. In Reynolds place, Reid wondered if he would have even had the courage to question Smith in the first place. The young profiler had also come to the conclusion that Smith wasn't going to take him seriously either and therefore his best course of action was to remain quiet until Hotch figured out what was going on. Reid had no doubt that the older agent would notice his absence soon and sort everything out.

"So are you done trying to spout regulations at me again?" Smith asked.

"Yeah," came Reynolds resigned reply.

"Then cuff the girl," Smith instructed as he took his own cuffs out and took a step closer to Reid. "You are both under arrest," Smith continued, speaking to both Reid and April as he took hold of Reid's left wrist. Reid winced as the Kansas City police office maneuvered his arm behind his back with more force than was necessary. "You have the right to remain silent," Smith continued as he began to read them the rights which Reid had known by memory long before he had even joined the FBI.

* * *

Frank's Bar and Grill catered to the middle-aged, male, crowd, who were looking to share a drink over whatever sporting event happened to be in season. There were only a handful of women scattered among the people gathered that night, most of who seemed to simply be a career woman comfortable with being 'just one of the guys' for the night. Here and there, a man and a woman shared a drink, though it was clear that the woman was competing with the big screen televisions for her companion's attention.

"Doesn't seem like a likely place for a prostitute to look for work," Morgan commented quietly to Hudson as the two profilers stood near the door of the bar surveying the scene.

"Unless you're a college student who doesn't want to take the risk of running into a classmate," Hudson replied, as he let his discerning gaze travel over the crowd of Frank's Bar and Grill. He and Morgan were probably among the younger guys currently in the place. At least they were dressed for the place. Though more the age of most of the bar's patrons, Hudson had no doubt that Hotch would stand out like a sore thumb, in the place, with his ever present suit while on the job.

"Good point," Morgan acknowledged. "There definitely wasn't much chance of Maureen Trent running into a classmate here. However, it also means that she wouldn't have been able to blend in quite as easily as she would have in other bars. Perhaps we'll have more luck finding somebody who recalls seeing her than we did with Sandra."

"If not this is going to be a complete waste of our night," Hudson replied.

"Yeah, not as many pretty girls to flirt with here, huh," Morgan teased, as he jabbed an elbow playfully into Hudson's ribs.

"Hey," Hudson said, taking a step away from Morgan even as he moved an arm instinctively across his side to block any further attempts. "Who wants to be all work and no fun and turn out like Hotch or Gideon. Neither of them ever cracks a smile."

"Yeah, and my smile is too good for people to be missing out on," Morgan said, a grin spreading across his face.

"You wish," Hudson scoffed. Growing more serious though his next comment steered the conversation back to the task that they had been sent here to do. "But how do you want to do this. We sticking together or are we splitting up again."

"Let's split up. We can talk to more people that way in a shorter time," Morgan replied. Somehow he didn't think that either one of them was going to want to spend more time here than was necessary to do their job.

"Right," Hudson said, reaching into his pocket and taking out the photo of Maureen Trent that Nichols had printed out for him before they left the police station. "The quicker we get through this the sooner we can get back to the hotel and get some sleep. If leads continue to be this hard to come by, sleep may become a rare commodity."

As Hudson stepped away and headed toward a group of guys gathered around a table to the right, Morgan did another quick survey of the place debating on where he was going to start. Determining that it would be useful to talk to someone who would know who were regulars at the bar and who weren't, Morgan started toward the bar. Weaving his way through the occupied tables, Morgan picked one of the many empty bar stools and sat down. It seemed most of the patrons of Frank's Bar and Grill preferred to gather around a table than sit at the bar.

It took only a few moments before the guy tending the bar was standing in front of Morgan.

"What can I get you?" the bar tender asked.

"Just a coke and a few minutes of your time if possible," Morgan answered casually, even as he took his badge out of his pocket to show the bartender.

The bar tender took a quick glance at the badge and then back at Morgan. "Yeah, okay," the guy said a bit nervously as he turned away. "Let me get the drink for you," he added walking a few steps toward the soda machine.

It didn't take his profiling skills for Morgan to tell that the man was nervous at the sight of a badge. That didn't necessarily mean that it had anything to do with his case though. A lot of people got nervous talking with cops.

After filling a glass, the bar tender reappeared in front of Morgan, quickly placing a napkin onto the bar top before placing the drink upon it.

"So, what do you want to know?" the bar tender asked, spreading his arms and placing his palms on the edge of the bar as he leaned forward, trying to look and sound casual now.

Picking up the glass with one hand, Morgan reached into the pocket of his leather jacket with the other. Placing a twin to the photo that Hudson had with him on the counter, Morgan pushed it across the sleek surface toward the bartender.

"Ever seen this girl in here?" Morgan asked casually even as he watched the bartender's reaction to the photo.

An expression of recognition crossed the bartender's face as the man looked down at the picture. "Not a lot of women come in here to hang out," the man replied, clearly not wanting to lie but attempting to avoid giving a direct answer himself. "Especially not that young," he added.

"So, I've noticed," Morgan commented casually. "Which leads me to believe that if she were to come in, people would notice her. Especially, someone who is here routinely and knows who his regular customers are."

"Okay, so yeah I flirted with the girl a bit when she came in here, but it was only after I had seen her ID when she ordered a drink and knew she was twenty-one," the guy finally admitted, the words coming out in a rush. "Yeah, still a bit young but nothing illegal about it. When she started hinting at doing whatever I wanted to do for a fee, I told her I wasn't interested."

"Nobody is accusing you of anything," Morgan assured the man, wanting to keep him talking. This was the first time all night that he was getting any information to go off of. "We're just trying to retrace her last steps."

"Last steps?" the bartender questioned, as he looked back down at the photo in front of him. "You mean she's dead?" he asked, the color draining from his face.

Morgan nodded. "Her body was found this morning in a nearby alley."

"Am I going to need a lawyer?" the bartender suddenly asked.

"Do you have something to hide?"

"Nothing that I haven't already told you," the bartender replied.

Morgan figured he was referring to the admission of flirting with Maureen, something that most guys in his position would probably do, whether they'd admit it or not. Having a younger woman interested in you, always stroked a male's ego.

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Morgan assured him letting an easy smile come to his face. "So tell me what you know about Maureen."

"Well, apparently I didn't even know her first name. She introduced herself as Candy when she first came in here three months ago. People noticed her right away because she wasn't your typical type of patron of Frank's Bar and Grill. She was a charmer when she wanted to be. That much was apparent because she could get a guy's attention and keep it, even if he had come here just to hang out with his buddies. The second night she showed up here, she didn't end up leaving the bar alone"

"When she left with a different guy the next week, I didn't think anything of it. Not every first date ends up followed by a second, after all. The next night, she was back and hung out at the bar. We both did some flirting and I'll admit, I was hoping that I would be the guy she'd end up leaving the bar with that night. Then she hinted that for compensation she'd be willing to do anything I'd like to blow off steam after my shift. I stopped flirting with her after that, kept it to polite exchanges when she was at the bar. She, however, kept leaving the bar with different men and after my experience I had an idea of how those nights were ending."

Morgan nodded. Even if Maureen's friend hadn't already informed them that the college student supplemented her income via prostitution, the information the bar tender had just given him would've allowed Morgan to connect Maureen to the prostitution angle that seemed to be a strong thread in their case.

"Was Maureen in here last night?' Morgan asked.

"Yes. I remember seeing her come in. There were a lot of people hanging out at the bar that night though, so I didn't really pay attention to her after noting her arrival."

"So you wouldn't know if she left with anyone?"

"I'm sorry. I couldn't even tell you how long she was here."

Morgan felt a stab of disappointment at the news. There was a chance that Maureen had left with their UnSub on the night of her murder but if they couldn't find someone who had seen her leave with him, knowing that wouldn't do them any good.

"Does the bar have surveillance cameras?" Morgan asked, grasping at what felt like that loose thread that always seemed to appear on your favorite shirt.

"No, sorry," the bar tender replied, sounding genuinely sorry, perhaps because he realized that a camera could show for a fact that he hadn't been the one to leave the bar with Maureen the night she was murdered. "The boss says he'll put them in when he can put the extra money in the budget, but that hasn't happened yet."

"Well, thank-you for your time," Morgan said, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. Taking the object out, he first withdrew one of his cards, which he held out to the bartender. "If you think of anything else you could tell me, give me a call."

"Yeah, sure," the bartender said, glancing briefly at the card before looking up again. Seeing Morgan reaching for money, the bartender made a dismissive gesture. "The drink is on the house," he told the profiler.

"Thanks," Morgan said, closing his wallet and putting it away. Picking up the glass in his right hand, he stood up. "Thanks for your help," he told the bartender as he turned and surveyed the crowd. Taking a sip of the soda, he set out for a table of three guys carrying on while watching a nearby tv.


	6. Jailbait

**AN: So here is the next update of our story. I'm really enjoying reading people's reactions so please keep the reviews coming. I appreciate every one! Ahmose - if you read this version of the chapter, I hope you like the additions to the Morgan/Hudson conversation.**

* * *

As the chaos calmed down, Hotch slid the badge he had taken out to show to the Kansas City, Kansas detective back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Glancing toward the front door, he saw police officers escorting the last of the bar's patrons out the front door. For the most part, they were as unaware as Hotch had been about the clandestine operation that was taking place at The Pale Dog Tavern which had been the purpose of the police raid.

Letting his eyes drift from the front door, Hotch took in the remaining occupants of the bar. Here and there, uniformed officers or detectives chatted with members of the tavern's staff. To Hotch's left, the bar's owner had been handcuffed and had already lawyered-up. The man was shooting daggers at one of the bouncers which Hotch had observed was one of the few occupants of the bar that hadn't seemed surprised by the events that had just taken place.

The one person that Hotch was specifically looking for was nowhere to be found. He had last seen Reid talking with one of the waitresses. A younger woman with her black-hair pulled back in a pony tail. Now he didn't see either one of them, and that worried Hotch.

Walking in the direction that he had last seen the pair, Hotch contemplated where the young genius could have gotten too. Hotch knew Reid wouldn't have left the bar without telling him. Taking out his phone, Hotch pressed the button to speed dial the younger agent's cell. As he listened to the ring through his own phone, he tried to pick up the sound of Reid's phone ringing nearby but didn't hear anything. Over the phone, Reid's voice telling him he was unavailable at this time, seemed to mock him.

As he put the phone back into his pocket, Hotch noticed a familiar looking bag and coat sitting on the bench seat of a booth. Crossing quickly over to the booth, Hotch reached down and picked up the bag. Undoing the buckles and flipping it open, the FBI profiler was easily able to determine that it was indeed Reid's bag.

 _~So where did Reid get to, ~_ Hotch mused, as he flipped the bag closed again and looked around. Spotting the nearby door in the back of the main bar area, Hotch headed that way.

"Who are you?"

The question was asked by a silver haired detective the moment Hotch had stepped through the door and into the backroom.

Immediately and calmly, Hotch reached into his jacket pocket and once again withdrew his badge. "SSA Aaron Hotchner," the former lawyer replied calmly, his voice giving off an air of authority.

"Detective Ryan Ortiz," the detective replied, introducing himself. He held out his hand to Hotch even as he continued to speak. "I wasn't aware that the FBI was interested in shutting down bars who are running prostitution rings."

"We're not exactly," Hotch told him. "My team and I were called in to help solve the string of murders of young women in the area. The most recent victim was discovered not far from this bar. The other four victims were also found in the vicinity of bars, so we're looking into whether the victims spent time in the bars. My partner and I were here doing just that when the raid took place."

"Where's your partner?" Detective Ortiz asked.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Hotch admitted. "I found his bag in a booth near this door, so I was thinking he may have ventured back here."

"Well, this was where the prostitution ring was being run out of," Detective Ortiz said turning slightly so that he could point in the direction of one of the cubicles. "The bar provided areas for prostitutes to service their customers, for a percentage of the money made. My team found several of the cubicles in use, and have made the arrests. I haven't heard anything about an FBI agent being present until you walked through the door."

"My partner wouldn't have come off as a typical FBI agent," Hotch said, thinking of just how much Reid didn't fit in with the stereotype of federal agents. "Perhaps one of your people has mistaken him for someone else."

Detective Ryan Ortiz opened his mouth, ready to defend his fellow officers abilities when a tentative voice spoke up.

"Sir, sorry to interrupt but I believe I may have some important information given what I just overheard," a young officer said.

"What is it, Reynolds?" Ortiz asked, not about to reprimand the young officer for eavesdropping in front of a federal agent. It was a breach of etiquette that could be addressed at a later time.

"Well, the guy Smith and I arrested when we raided the place claimed he was a federal agent. Smith thought he was just trying to talk his way out of getting arrested. Said the guy was too young to be a federal agent and the man didn't have a badge on him. Claimed his badge was in a messenger bag that he had left in the main bar."

Both Ortiz and Reynolds let their gaze fall onto the messenger bag that Hotch was holding.

"I suggested we follow up on the claim but Smith accused me of just being gullible and said it was a waste of time."

Ryan Ortiz suppressed the groan that threatened to escape. Though a good police officer, Smith had always been a bit of a brash officer, thinking that he knew best in any situation. It was the reason that the officer hadn't made detective, despite a celebrated career.

"Has he been transported to the station yet?" Ortiz asked.

"Yes, sir," Reynolds replied. "Everyone that was back here has already been transported."

"I'm sorry for the mistake," Detective Ortiz said, turning to face Hotch. "I'll make a call to the station and we'll get this situation straightened out as quickly as possible. We are going to need you or another agent to make an ID on him before we let him leave the station though, seeing as he doesn't have his badge on him."

"I understand," Hotch said, silently wondering how Reid kept getting him into situations like this. It was like the young genius was a magnet for trouble. "I'll send another agent from my team over to pick him up," he said. "Meanwhile, I was wondering if you could share with me information about this current operation. We've discovered another murder here in the city that fits with the other murders that we were called in to investigate. In that case, the body was found in a dumpster outside of The Watering Horse, which I understand was closed down due to a connection to prostitution."

"Yeah, The Watering Horse was what put us onto the organized prostitution that is occurring in the city," Ortiz confirmed. "I'll provide you with any information you would like," he added, hoping that the sharing of information would help smooth over the mistake that Smith had made in arresting a federal agent.

"Thank-you," Hotch said, hoping that the information that Detective Ortiz provided him might offer them a lead in their own case. "First though let me call one of my teammates to go pick up my partner. Which station is he at?"

* * *

Like the bartender, most of the guys Morgan had talked to were hesitant in even admitting that they recognized the picture of Mindy. No one seemed willing to admit they had spent more than a few minutes talking with her but admitted that they had never seen her leave the bar with the same guy twice.

Figuring that they weren't going to get much further by talking to the patrons of Frank's Bar and Grill, Morgan was about ready to find Hudson and call it a night when his phone rang. Taking it out, a quick glance at the screen told him that the call was from Hotch.

"Morgan."

"How's your night going?"

"About ready to call it a night and head back to the hotel. I didn't find out much though perhaps something might provide useful. Not sure if Hudson has discovered anything here at the second bar though we both struck out at the first place."

"Well I may or may not have something, myself. The Kansas City Kansas police raided The Pale Dog Tavern tonight. The owner was involved in running a prostitution racket in the backroom like at The Watering Horse. The detective here is going to share what they have on the two operations. Hopefully it will provide useful."

"Let's hope so, because I'm starting to feel like we're not making any headway at all on this case."

"It's still early," Hotch replied. "Meanwhile, I need you to do something else for me before you and Hudson head back to the hotel."

"Yeah, what is it?" Morgan asked.

As Hotch explained what had taken place at The Pale Dog Tavern, Morgan listened quietly in disbelief. Of all the things he could have thought of that Hotch might need him to do, picking Reid up at the police station would never have crossed his mind.

"And I don't want you or Hudson giving Reid a hard time about this either, Morgan," Hotch instructed as he finished explaining the situation. "I would have called Nichols and Gideon but the bars you two are checking out put you closer to the river than they are."

It was a warning that Morgan didn't need. There were things in his childhood that he wasn't proud of, and doing things that put him on the wrong side of the law was definitely one of them. It was an experience that he wouldn't wish on anyone, especially not someone like Reid.

"Yeah, understood," Morgan replied, not wanting to say anything that might have Hotch asking him questions. His childhood was something that he didn't care to discuss with his current teammates as it was something that he had put behind him. He was no longer that trouble young kid who had grown up on the streets of Chicago. He was no longer that kid that could be scared into doing something he was not comfortable with.

"I'll see you all back at the hotel then," Hotch said.

"Okay," Morgan said before ending the call.

Flipping the device close, the Chicago native looked around for his partner. It didn't take him long to spot him and when he did, he discovered that Hudson was already heading in his direction.

"The only thing I am sure of is that Maureen did frequent this place and she never left the place with the same guy twice," Hudson stated, as he approached Morgan. "Have any better luck?"

"Not really," Morgan said, admitting to himself that even his lengthy conversation with the bartender hadn't revealed much more information than that.

"Then I say we call it a night and grab some sleep while we can. Who knows how late Gideon will have us working tomorrow and if we don't get a solid lead soon this may turn out to be a long case."

Morgan definitely couldn't argue against either point. "Unfortunately, we can't head back to the hotel quite yet."

Hudson's expression took on a look of surprise as he asked, "What's up?"

"The bar that Hotch and Reid were asking questions at was raided by the Kansas City police because of prostitution activity. Reid was in the wrong place at the time of the raid, didn't have his badge on him, and the officer on site believed him too young to actually be an FBI agent."

"Well, technically they got that part right," Hudson commented. "So what are we doing? Going to bail him out of jail?"

Morgan bit back his amusement at the joke. They might find it amusing from their end of everything but Morgan knew that Reid would be finding this situation anything but amusing. "Not quite," Morgan replied, hoping there wasn't any trace of amusement in his voice that might encourage Hudson's joking. "As Hotch wants to stay at the scene a little longer though, we do need to go pick him up at the station."

"Great," Hudson commented, the tone of his voice indicating that he found this situation anything but serious. He had already started walking toward the exit and Morgan fell into step beside him. "Picking up Jailbait from the local police station is just how I wanted to spend the rest of my evening," he said, a soft chuckle following the comment.

Morgan had to bite his lip to stop from laughing. Despite his anger at the situation, he couldn't completely blame the officer for making the mistake that had been made. After all, Reid was technically too young to be a federal agent without the waiver that he had received, and his looks did nothing to help him look older. Morgan had a feeling he would jump to the conclusion that Reid was too young to even be in the bar himself.

"If you've got to joke about this, please get all the jokes out before we reach the police station," Morgan finally said when he was sure that he could speak with a straight face. "The last thing Reid needs is you making a joke out of the situation and I don't think Gideon or Hotch will appreciate the humor in the situation either," he warned his partner, hoping Hudson would be receptive of the mild rebuke.

"You're seriously trying to tell me that you don't find the situation amusing?" Hudson asked, the grin on his face rivaling that of the Cheshire Cat's smile. "I'm sure if I was the one you were picking up at the police station following a false arrest you'd be cracking joke after joke."

"You're probably right," Morgan conceded as he pushed his way through the front door of Frank's Bar and Grill. If he ever had to show up at a police station to bail Hudson out, he would never let his partner forget the situation. Still fighting to maintain a straight face despite Hudson's amusement, Morgan didn't dwell too much on that idea though. "However, it's not you or me. This is Reid we're talking about and the kid already takes enough flak from everybody. He's probably feeling humiliated as it is. We don't need to add to that."

"Point taken," Hudson replied, as he stepped out into the cold Missouri night. Morgan's words had a bit of a sobering effect on him as the reality of the situation began to sink in. Letting go of the front door, he set out across the parking lot behind his partner. Though Morgan couldn't see it, Hudson held up his hands in surrender as he continued, "I promise, no jailbait jokes around Reid," he conceded, the grin on his face lessening but not disappearing entirely.

"Thank-you."

The two profilers walked the rest of the way to their SUV in silence. As they approached, the beep of Morgan unlocking the vehicle echoed through the relatively quiet night. Pulling open the doors, Morgan and Hudson climbed into their respective seats.

"You know though, this defense of Reid makes me wonder if you're not a little sweet on the youngest member of our team," Hudson remarked as he pulled the seatbelt out of its resting place. He was still feeling amused, and he figured deflecting that amusement to giving Morgan a hard time would lessen the tension between the two of them. "Maybe all this playing up this Derek Morgan ladies man image is nothing but a cover to hide your true feelings," he added, the Chesire Cat grin making a return.

"Very funny," Morgan remarked, finally allowing himself to smile as he punched Hudson playfully in the arm before putting on his own seatbelt.

Putting the key into the ignition, Morgan turned it bringing the engine to life. Checking for other vehicles, Morgan backed the SUV out of its parking space and was soon on the streets of Kansas City, Missouri and heading for the river which separated Missouri from Kansas.

* * *

Staring through the bars at the cell across from him, Spencer Reid had never considered being on this side of the bars for this reason. There was definitely a dose of humiliation involved in this situation along with anger at himself. _~How could I have been so stupid as too not have my badge on me? ~_ Reid asked himself, not for the first time. He couldn't answer the question this time any better than he could've the other times he had asked it.

Rubbing his left wrist, Reid went over what had transpired once again, trying to figure out if there had been something he could've done differently that would have changed the outcome. Once again he came to the same conclusion. Smith had been so determined not to believe him that even if he had his badge on him, Smith might have just claimed it was a fake.

Sighing softly, Reid folded his arms across his stomach as he looked around at the men sharing the cell with him. Though all of the men in the cell with him were older, Reid counted himself lucky that at least they didn't seem to be the dangerous type even if they weren't in casual dress like himself. Everyone also seemed content to keep to themselves, having found a spot in the holding cell away from the rest of their fellow cellmates. Sitting in his own corner, Reid wondered how long it would be before Hotch would show up to get him out of here.

The sound of approaching footsteps caused Reid to look in that direction; hopeful that it would be his training agent. Even the prospect of a lengthy lecture was preferable to hanging around here. To his disappointment he saw only a Kansas City police officer approaching.

Reaching the cell Reid was sitting in, the police officer stopped. "Come over here," the officer said, pointing to Reid.

Not sure if he should be relieved or further worried, Reid did as bidden, keeping a wary eye on the other guys in the cell as he went. Reid noticed the police officer was also watching for any movement from his fellow cellmates. The other guys in the cell however made no movement toward the door.

As Reid reached the door, the police officer inserted a key and slid the door opened, beckoning Reid through. Perhaps Hotch really had shown up and was waiting elsewhere for him. At the very least, Reid didn't feel as if he was being treated like a typical prisoner any longer. Still, he didn't feel comfortable even asking the simple question of what was going on as the cell door slid shut behind him with a metallic clang.

"Follow me please," the police officer said, after locking the cell door again.

Silently, Reid followed the politely phrased order and followed the officer down the corridor toward the main part of the station.

"Detective Ortiz called. He's talked to your fellow agent on scene and on behalf of my fellow officers, let me say that I'm truly sorry about the mistake that was made Agent Reid," the officer said once they were past the holding cells.

"Thanks," Reid muttered, still trying to process everything. The thought of correcting the officer about the use of agent instead of doctor didn't even cross his mind.

"One of your teammates is coming to pick you up," the officer continued as he came to a stop in front of a door. Reaching for the knob, the man tuned it and pushed the door open, revealing a small room containing only an oblong table surrounded by chairs. "You can wait in here for them."

Reid didn't say anything as he walked past the officer into the room. After even the short time he had spent in the jail cell, waiting anywhere was preferable. Crossing to the far side of the table, the young genius took a seat in a chair facing the door though his gaze was on the table in front of him.

"Can I get you anything?" the officer asked.

The question was met with silence, as Reid didn't hear the officer's question. After waiting a few moments and getting no response, the office slipped from the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Working on the assumption that Reid was angry about the mistake that had been made, the officer decided that a peace offering of a cup of coffee couldn't make the situation worse.

It wasn't long before, with a knock on the door, the officer was back at the conference room cup of coffee in his hand.

"I thought you might like a cup of coffee while you wait," the officer ventured as he placed the mug down on the table in front of Reid.

Reid looked up at the officer and then back down at the cup of coffee. "Thanks," he said, his hands reaching out to grasp the mug. As his fingers wrapped around the hot ceramic, the warmth of the hot beverage seemed to move from the mug and into his body.

This time Reid was aware of the click of the door shutting as the Kansas City police officer left once again. As the warmth and the aroma of the coffee in front of him began to relax him some, Reid began to wonder which of his teammates were going to be picking him up. He fervently hoped it would be Nichols. He knew that the computer specialist would be the most understanding about the whole situation and wouldn't tease him and would leave the lectures to Hotch or Gideon. Even Gideon would be tolerable, as Reid knew he could endure a lecture about his actions. In all honesty, he deserved a lecture and some kind of reprimand for his stupidity.

What he couldn't deal with right now were jokes about what had happened. Reid hadn't felt as humiliated as he did right now since the time he was tied naked to the field goal post on the high school football field. Reid had no doubt that Morgan and Hudson were going to be making jokes about him getting arrested as soon as they found out. Tomorrow, perhaps, he could tolerate that, but not right now.

Lifting the ceramic mug with both hands, Reid took a sip, letting the hot beverage move through him. What he really wanted though wasn't the warm embrace of his favorite beverage but the safe confines of his hotel room.


	7. Pretty Boy

**_AN: Alright folks, sorry for the delay. Real life got in the way of bringing you this update this past weekend. However, here it is. Hope you all find it worth the wait!_**

* * *

Reaching the door to the conference room that he had been told Reid was waiting in, Morgan knocked once on the door, wanting to give his young teammate some kind of warning before barging in. He didn't wait for an answer before grasping the brass colored knob and pushing open the door.

Stepping into the room, Morgan found that Reid had taken up position directly across from the door. He also didn't miss the small groan the younger agent admitted on spotting him, despite the kid's attempts to conceal it. Morgan chose not to take offense to the expression; he supposed he'd feel the same way in Reid's place. After all, he and Hudson weren't exactly innocent. They had given the young genius a hard time enough in the past to warrant Reid expecting the same result in this instance.

"So, we heard you needed a lift back to the hotel, Reid," Hudson said as he stepped into the room behind Morgan. There was no trace of humor in the former New York police officer.

"It beats walking in this cold," Reid replied, unwrapping his long fingers from the ceramic mug that had been serving as his anchor during his wait. He got to his feet, reaching for the bag that he didn't have. In an attempt to hide the motion he rubbed his still aching wrist instead.

"You okay, Reid?" Morgan asked, having noticed both actions but choosing only to comment on the second.

"Yeah, fine," Reid said as he stopped rubbing his wrist.

"Did they hurt you?" Hudson asked from behind Morgan, having also taken notice of his youngest teammate's action. He knew from experience that sometimes you had to use a little force with resistive suspects but Hudson also knew that Reid wouldn't have been resistive.

"I'm fine, really," Reid replied, surprised and touched at the protective tone in Hudson's voice but also not wanting either of his teammates to cause a scene. All the young genius wanted to do was to put this police station and the whole ordeal as far behind him as possible. "Can we go?"

"Where's your coat?" Morgan asked.

"Back at the bar," Reid replied, as he walked around the end of the table and toward where his two teammates were standing. ~ _Along with my bag, badge, cell phone and my dignity_ , ~ he added silently.

Slipping off his leather coat, Morgan placed it over Reid's shoulders. There was no way he was going to let his younger teammate walk out into the cold night without a coat knowing how much Reid hated the cold to begin with.

"Thanks," Reid replied, slipping his arms into the way too big coat for the second time in his short FBI career. Too big or not at least it was warm and soon he would be away from this place and back at the hotel, his home away from home.

Just then he remembered April. She didn't belong in a jail cell anymore than he did. In fact, it was probably his fault that she was in a jail cell tonight. If she hadn't been answering his questions, and trying to help out with the case, then she wouldn't have been in that backroom tonight.

"Hold on. I can't leave yet."

Reid's statement had both of his teammates looking at him questionably.

"This waitress from the bar, was answering questions for me. She's the one that took me to the backroom, where our victim supposedly worked out of from time to time. I probably won't be taken much more seriously now by the police here than I was in the bar, but I need to at least try to get them to let her go."

"If she knew what was going on in the backroom than she must have used it a time or two herself," Morgan reasoned.

"That's not the point. She wasn't supposed to be back there tonight," Reid told him.

"I'm all for doing whatever I can to protect an informant," Hudson said in support of Reid. Given the current situation though, Hudson shared Reid's assessment that the younger agent still wouldn't be taken too seriously by the cops in the station though. "Let me go see what I can do. What's her name?"

"April."

"Just April."

Reid felt warmth growing in his cheeks at the question. At the time he hadn't seen the need to get the waitress' last name. "That's all I know," Reid replied and then proceeded to give Hudson a description of the Pale Dog Tavern waitress.

"Alright," Hudson said, feeling that the first name and description should be enough. "Let me go figure out who I need to talk to."

Morgan nodded. "We'll wait for you out in the car," the dark-skinned profiler replied, as he draped an arm across Reid's shoulders. As much as Reid wanted to try to protect the waitress that had been answering questions for him, Morgan wanted to try sheltering his younger teammate. Right now, his instinct was to get Reid out of what he considered hostile territory, as quickly as possible. "Come on, Pretty Boy, let's get you out of here," the Chicago native said.

As he let himself be led out of the conference room, Reid took notice of the new nickname but didn't let it bother him. After all, it wasn't the first nickname one of his teammates had given him nor did he hear any malicious intent in the tone of Morgan's voice. He did however hope that it wouldn't become a popular one with his older teammate, as he definitely preferred Kid over Pretty Boy.

* * *

It was nearing eleven o'clock before Agent Aaron Hotchner pulled the black SUV he was driving into an empty parking lot next to one of its twins. He wasn't sure if the information he had gathered tonight would help them with their case or not, but at least it gave them another avenue to explore. Detective Ortiz had been most helpful in securing the footage from The Pale Dog Tavern's security cameras for the BAU's use. Though the bar owner's organization skills appeared to be abysmal, it appeared as though he kept tapes for at least a couple of weeks before getting rid of them. With any luck, Nichols would be able to find Mindy on the tapes and they could see if she had left the bar by conventional means on the night of her death and if she was with anyone.

Grabbing the bag with the security tapes, Reid's coat and messenger bag, Hotch climbed from the SUV and locked it. A quick glance around the parking lot told him that all his teammates were back at the hotel as the third FBI issued SUV was parked a couple spots away. Striding across the moonlit parking lot, Hotch entered the hotel via a side door and headed up to the fifth floor where their rooms were located.

As his route lead him past his room before reaching Reid's room, Hotch made a brief stop to drop off the security tapes. Then, walking the short distance down the hall, the former prosecutor was knocking on the door to Reid's room.

It didn't take long for Reid to answer the door and Hotch noted that the younger profiler was still dressed, which led him to believe that Reid hadn't gone to sleep yet.

"I thought I'd drop off your stuff before I retired for the night," Hotch said, scrutinizing the younger man as he did. Though Morgan had called to say Reid seemed to be okay except for a sore left wrist, Hotch wanted to make his own assessment on the young agent's frame of mind.

"I appreciate it," Reid replied, reaching out to take the bag and coat from Hotch.

"Can I come in for a few minutes?" Hotch asked, figuring that it wasn't very likely that Reid would invite him into the room on his own.

Reid nodded, and stepped to the side, allowing his mentor access into the room. Hotch walked into the hotel room automatically taking note of his surroundings. The chair at the desk was pulled out. On the desk, a pen sat abandoned on top of a single sheet of paper. Hotch could see Reid's small, neat handwriting already covering a good portion of the white surface already. A glance in the direction of the bed showed that it was still expertly made, meaning that Hotch assumption that Reid had yet to retire for the night was accurate.

"I'm really sorry, sir" Reid said as he pushed the door shut behind him and turned to face Hotch. He had been hoping that his training agent would wait until the morning for the lecture but in a way was relieved to just be getting it out of the way. "I know I should have my badge on me at all times, and leaving my bag in the booth was inexcusable. It won't happen again," he said in a rush.

"Reid, have a seat," Hotch said calmly, motioning toward the unruffled bed. It was clear to him that Reid had already convinced himself that what had transpired tonight was his fault. From what Reynolds had relayed to Detective Ortiz and himself, most of the blame for tonight's false arrest rested on Smith's shoulder. If the Kansas City officer had simply followed up on Reid's claim that the bag was in the main part of the bar or had even made an attempt to locate himself, then the confusion could have been cleared up much quicker and without the false arrest.

Doing as he was told, Reid moved toward the bed. Sitting down, the young genius perched stiffly on the edge of the bed as he placed his bag and coat down beside him.

Not wanting to be towering over Reid as he spoke, Hotch grabbed the desk chair and turned it around. "Yes, you made a mistake with forgetting your bag in the booth when you followed the waitress to the back room," Hotch began as he sat down in the chair. "But it's a mistake that any of us could have made," the veteran profiler said, his tone softer than his normal stern work mode voice. It was his job to mold the young genius into a veteran agent, not make him feel like a failutre. "We're human, not machines. We forget things from time to time. However, you're not the only one that made a mistake tonight. Officer Smith didn't follow proper procedures, and as your training agent, I should've been keeping a closer eye on you."

Hotch paused, giving his words some time to sink in, before continuing.

"Besides, I didn't come here tonight to reprimand you. I came by to make sure you're doing okay."

"I'm fine, sir," Reid replied, surprised by the turn of events, having fully expected a reprimand for his performance tonight. "Yes, I feel humiliated about getting arrested, but it's certainly not the first time I've felt this way. I'll be fine."

"And the wrist?"

Reid glanced down at his slightly aching wrist. He didn't remember rubbing it or favoring it in anyway that would give away that it was bothering him. That left only one possible scenario. "You've already talked to Morgan then."

"He called me once you guys got back to the hotel to give me an update on the situation," Hotch confirmed.

"It still aches, but it'll be fine."

"I think we'll let a doctor make that determination," Hotch replied.

Reynolds had mentioned that he thought Smith had been too rough when he made the arrest. Detective Ortiz had offered to add that charge into the official reprimand he planned on filing against Smith for the false arrest. Hotch had told the local detective to hold off on that charge until he had spoken to Reid. Now that he had Reid's confirmation that his wrist was bothering him, Hotch was determined to make sure the injury was nothing serious. If it was, then he planned on making sure appropriate disciplinary action was taken against Smith, given that Reynolds had already stated that Reid had been completely cooperative through the entire ordeal. However, if it was nothing, as Reid was trying to maintain, then perhaps letting it go would be best in an effort not to make an already tense inter-agency situation worse.

"There's a medical center nearby. We'll stop by first thing in the morning and have them examine the wrist."

"It's really not necessary," Reid protested.

"It's a work related injury that should be followed up on. I'm sure I can have Gideon make it official if you'd like."

Reid shook his head. "There's no need for that, sir," the young genius acquiesced. It was exactly the response that Hotch had anticipated.

"Okay, then. I'll see you in the morning," Hotch said, standing up and taking a step toward the door.

Reid's "yes, sir" was barely audible as Hotch moved toward the door and let himself out of the room, hoping that he had done enough to convince Reid that the events of the night were not his fault. Something like this was exactly the last thing that the nervous young agent needed.

* * *

Just like when he came into the office in the morning, Gideon wasn't surprised to find that he was the only member of the BAU team in the lobby when he entered the following morning. As the hands of the clock just reading only seven twenty three, the veteran profiler was not worried about the absence of his agents. He was confident that Nichols, Morgan and Hudson would find their way down to the lobby by eight a.m. as instructed. As for Hotch and Reid, Gideon had already spoken to Hotch and knew that the last two agents of the team would be joining them at the police station after Reid saw a doctor.

Like the others, Gideon was angered by the treatment Reid had received. The fact that Reid wouldn't be taken seriously by the officers in the jurisdictions that their cases took them to had been a concern of his when he had requested Reid's appointment to the team. What he hadn't anticipated was the scenario that had taken place last night. Still, Gideon also saw opportunity in the whole incident. If Erin Strauss wanted an example of the need for a media liaison then he would be happy to give her just that.

Crossing the lobby, Jason Gideon selected a chair in front of the hotel's gas fireplace where he would easily be spotted by the other agents when they found their way to the lobby. Placing the bag of security tapes that Hotch had dropped off before heading to the medical center on the floor next the chair, Gideon sat down. Settling back in the chair, Gideon flipped his newspaper open to the crossword puzzle and began working on the word exercise. Despite everything ahead of him that needed to be done, Gideon had learned that even a short period of time devoted to a crossword puzzle helped him to focus for the rest of the day.

As the blank boxes became occupied with letters, Gideon was still aware of the movement around him as the lobby became busier. He had just finished filling in another answer when he noticed the footsteps walking toward his area of the lobby. Lifting his head, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Nichols, computer bag securely over his left shoulder, making his way toward him.

"Morning boss," the team's computer specialist said easily.

"Morning, Nichols," Gideon replied, casting a glance at his watch. He had been working on the crossword for about twenty minutes, which meant that Morgan and Hudson still had fifteen minutes to make an appearance. "Hotch brought homework back for you," Gideon said easily, motioning with his pen to the bag at his feet. "Security tapes from the Pale Dog Tavern. With Mindy's death being so recent, hopefully the footage from that day is in the collection of tapes the local police pulled from the building. Unfortunately, the tavern's owner wasn't the best record keeper and the tapes aren't labeled."

"Oh joy," Nichols commented as he plopped down in the chair next to Gideon. "Guess I know what I'm going to be doing today."

"I also want you on hand for the press conference later this morning," Gideon said, referring to the press conference that had been arranged at the end of yesterday's with the intent on giving regular updates on the case to keep the media from wild speculation. Though they really didn't have much new information to give, Gideon planned on this press conference to create quite a media buzz. As Nichols was probably the most diplomatic agent on the team, the veteran profiler was counting on the computer specialist to be able to smooth things over a bit even without any warning of what he was planning. "Franklin and I have agreed to give the media at least daily updates about the case."

"Sure thing, Boss," Nichols replied, silently questioning Gideon's inclusion of him in the press conference but not giving voice to those questions. The computer specialist had worked with the senior agent long enough to know that Gideon seldom made any decision without having some plan already figured out, even if it was something as mundane as a press conference. However, his years of working with Gideon had taught him to trust the older agent's judgement even if he didn't always understand his way of thinking. "Have you seen Reid at all?" Nichols ask, choosing to change the topic.

Gideon shook his head. "I only talked to Hotch this morning. He and Reid will meet us at the station later after Reid gets his wrist checked out at the medical center."

Nichols nodded his acknowledgment of the statement. "I guess that explains why there was no answer when I knocked on Junior's door on my way down."

Before either Nichols or Gideon could say anything else a new voice chimed in.

"Are you guys enjoying a little morning fire side chat?" Morgan asked as he approached the fireplace, Hudson only a few steps behind him.

"Yes," Nichols replied immediately. "And if you weren't such a sloth then you could have enjoyed a few relaxing moments yourself."

"Personally, I'd rather be curled up in my bed for a few extra minutes than sitting by a fire any day," Morgan replied.

"Unless there is a beautiful woman involved," Hudson quipped, as he and Morgan came to a stop behind the chairs that their fellow agents were occupying.

"I'd still rather be in the bed than beside a fireplace, even if said fireplace has a bearskin rug," Morgan answered without missing a beat.

"And now we're entering the realm of mental images that I do not need no matter what time of day it is," Nichols answered. "What time is it, anyway?"

Gideon tilted his wrist so that he could read his watch. "Seven fifty-one," he answered, even as he sat up straight in the chair. "However, since we're all here, we might as well head over to the station."

"What about Hotch and Reid?" Morgan asked.

"They'll be joining us after Reid gets his wrist checked out," Gideon replied, putting his pen behind his ear, tucking the paper under one arm and grabbing the bag of security tapes as he got to his feet.

Without another word the four federal agents headed across the lobby and toward the two SUV's waiting for them in the hotel parking lot.


	8. Media Circus

**_AN: Yeah, I know I suck. Sorry for the delay. My muse decided to take a vacation and that included feeling like editing anything. Now that the muse is rested up though, here is the long awaited chapter eight. Hope you enjoy!_**

* * *

After the previous day's press conference, the case that the BAU agents were working on was even bigger news than it had been before. The number of press on hand for the event had doubled. As they jockeyed for position at the foot of the steps, a general hum of voices could be heard by those at the top of the steps. Adding to the buzz of voices were the curious onlookers and concerned citizens of the city who wanted to hear the news firsthand.

As he stepped toward the podium, Gideon knew that what he was about to do was going to make quite a buzz just because of the number of people here. News was going to travel fast, and not just via the media either. Just in front of Gideon, Detective Franklin stood at the microphone of the podium. After getting the attention of the crowd, Franklin introduced Gideon once again and then the lead detective stepped back to let the FBI profiler take control of the press conference.

As they hadn't made much headway on the case, there wasn't really all that much new information to release. Therefore, Gideon opened the press conference by repeating the information that had been given the day before.

"We can confirm that there have been victims in this case on both sides of the river, at this time," Gideon said, as he stood at the microphone, flanked by Franklin on one side and Nichols on the other. "It is imperative that women, especially young women, here and in Kansas City, Kansas be vigilant while this person is on the loose. At this time, we have linked two murders in Kansas City, Kansas to this unknown subject, one of which we believe to have been his first victim. After an incident last night, in which one of our agents was detained by local law enforcement, I have decided that the FBI is taking over this investigation on the basis that the UnSub has crossed state lines."

Both video and still cameras caught the surprise on Detective Franklin's face at this announcement. It was clear to the media gathered, as well as anyone watching, that the Missouri detective was startled by the announcement. Perhaps the most shocked by Gideon's words however was Nichols, given how many times he had heard Gideon talk about how imperative it was that they work with local law enforcement on their cases to avoid offending the local agencies. The computer specialist however, quickly schooled his features so that only a flicker of surprise was visible to those watching.

"I am hoping that both the Kansas City, Kansas and Kansas City, Missouri will cooperate with our efforts to find this individual quickly and make both cities safer for their citizens. At this time, I will be turning this press conference over to SA Nichols, who will answer all your questions," Gideon stated, before stepping back from the podium.

Turning quickly, Gideon headed back into the police station without even a glance back at the people gathered. Again, hiding his surprise at the turn of events, Nichols stepped forward to take over the press conference, silently cursing his team leader. He wasn't sure about the reason why, but the computer specialist knew that Gideon had purposely chosen his words to create the buzz that had spread over the gathered media. The Unit Chief's intent had been to provoke both state law agencies, which had been accomplished. Now, Nichols was left to deal with the aftermath.

The reasons behind Gideon's actions weren't important now. Right now he had a job to do, though Nichols intended on dealing with that topic just as soon as this press conference was over.

"If we can come back to order, I will do my best to answer your questions at this time," Nichols said into the microphone on the podium, his voice rising above the chorus of voices.

One by one, Nichols acknowledged members of the media and did his best to provide answers that were both accurate and would not further add to the waves of discontent that Gideon's remarks about the local law enforcement had already created. Not surprisingly, a lot of the questions had to deal with the mention of a federal agent being detained. Nichols tried to answer those questions without given out the identity of the agent involved. The last thing Reid needed, or would want, was further scrutiny about the incident. Just as he had tried to protect the young agent from their teammates in the beginning, the computer specialist intended on protecting him from the media.

Finally, after twenty minutes of fielding questions, Nichols brought that segment of the press conference to a close and turned the microphone back over to Detective Franklin.

"Detective Franklin, what is the KCPD's response to the FBI taken over the investigation."

Franklin paused briefly before answering the question. He knew that venting to the media was not the way to deal with his real feelings about the turn of events.

"I asked the BAU here to help solve the murders of three young women in our city. I would not have done so if I didn't have complete confidence in their ability to do just that. The KCPD will continue to assist the BAU in whatever capacity that we can, as I hope our brothers across the river will do as well," Detective Franklin said diplomatically, hiding his resentment at the turn of events. He wanted answers of his own, but he refused to show the public any discord between himself and the FBI. "At this time, I am bringing this press conference to an end. Barring any major developments, you can expect to hear from us again at eleven a.m. tomorrow morning. Thank-you for your time."

Even as the media called out last minute questions in the hopes of them being answered, both Nichols and Franklin turned and headed into the station. While Franklin headed for his office, Nichols made a beeline for the conference room that the BAU was working out of. Throwing open the door with more force than was necessary, Nichols wasted no time in addressing his boss.

"You set me up out there!" he exclaimed, not bothering to shut the door as he strode over to the table his teammates were gathered around.

Reid, Hotch, Hudson, and Morgan all turned their attention from the television screen that currently showed the black and white security footage from The Pale Dog Tavern to focus on Nichols. As they hadn't been watching the press conference, they were all surprised by the usually mild mannered computer specialist's outburst.

"I did," Gideon replied calmly as he pressed the pause button on the remote he held in his hand. The image on the television screen froze.

"Well, I don't often question why you do the things you do, but I think that after dealing with the circus you created out there," Nichols said, waving a hand in the general vicinity of the station's main entrance, "I deserve an explanation!"

Gideon nodded, unfazed by the expected outburst. He was prepared to deal with Nichols anger and explain himself to the younger agent. What he didn't want was an audience in the form of local law enforcement. "Shut the door, please," Gideon replied, just as calmly as he had uttered the previous two words.

Not at all placated by Gideon's calm demeanor, Nichols turned to do as bidden. With only a tad less force than he had opened the door, Nichols pushed it shut. Beyond the glass pane of the window, Nichols noted that the local officers whose attention had been attracted by his entrance jumped at the sound of the door slamming. Doing an about face, Nichols turned his attention back to Gideon, the younger agent crossing his arms as he waited for his explanation.

"I did deliberately try to step on the toes of the local law enforcement out there," Gideon admitted, looking directly at Nichols as he did so. The veteran profiler was well aware of the rest of the agents' attention being on him as well. "As you know, Hotch and I have been trying to get a media liaison position added to the team. Strauss has denied our initial proposal stating that she didn't see a need to have someone dealing with the media and the local law enforcement. It is my intent to show her exactly how beneficial that person could be by creating a 'scene' so to say. Reid's arrest by the police in Missouri offered me the perfect opportunity to do so."

"And you couldn't have clued me into your plan?" Nichols asked in a bit more of a respectful tone, although he didn't bother to uncross his arms. It was clear to all in the room that he was not at all happy to have been used by his boss.

"I didn't want to chance anything looking staged. Hence the reason I didn't let Detective Franklin in on the plan either. With any luck, he's on the phone trying to get a hold of Strauss right now as I'm sure when he asked for our help he didn't intend for us to take over the case."

"Wait, we've taken over the case?" Morgan asked.

"As the UnSub has crossed lines, we have the authority to do so," Gideon said, repeating the reason he had given during the press conference. "However, doing so may hamper the cooperation we get from local law enforcement, especially the Kansas police so the quicker we get this case wrapped up the better."

"Wrapped up? We don't even have any suspects yet," Hudson muttered, not intending to be overheard.

"Then let's keep looking for the tape showing the night Mindy Tumolo was murdered," Gideon said, his ears having picked up the muttered comment. "Hopefully we'll be able to at least identify the people she had contact with that night, if not find our suspect."

"Personally, I'd like to speak to Mark Tumolo again," Nichols said going over in his mind the conversation he'd had with their most recent victim's husband. When he paired it together with what he had found out about the couple via the internet, something seemed off to him. "He came off as the type of guy who likes to be in control. He would want to know how Mindy was getting the extra income that was going into the couple's checking account, yet he didn't claim to know about any extra jobs his wife was doing. He also seemed nervous when he claimed Mindy was out with friends on the night of her death, as if he was hiding something."

"You think he knew his wife was involved in prostitution?" Hudson asked, clearly not believing the same thing. "If the man is as controlling as you say he is, do you really think he'd want his wife to be sleeping with other men?"

"If he wanted or they needed the money bad enough, then yeah, I think it's possible?" Nichols replied. "If he knew about it, then he would have some say in when and how often she went out. That could have been enough control over the situation for him."

"It's worth checking out," Gideon admitted. "Nichols, why don't you take Morgan and Hudson with you and pay a surprise visit to Mark Tumolo."

"You want three of us to go talk to this guy?" Morgan asked.

"Yes. Three federal agents is much more intimidating than one or even two, don't you think?" Gideon replied. "A man who is use to be in control isn't going to like being questioned by three federal agents."

Not able to argue with Gideon's reasoning, Morgan got to his feet. He'd much rather be interviewing people than sitting around the station scanning security footage anyway. Beside Morgan, Hudson pushed his chair back, and followed suit.

Without another word, the three profilers left the conference room, well aware that people started to quickly look busy as they stepped out of the room. Even with the door closed, they had attracted the attention of the local officers following Nichol's emotional outburst.

Nichols had a feeling that they were going to be working with a lot of scrutiny from the local officers for the duration of the case. Part of him actually wished that he was back in his office in Quantico.

* * *

Ejecting the tape from the borrowed VCR, Gideon took a post-it note with the tape's date written on it and stuck it on the tape. With the tape now labeled, the unit chief placed the video cassette on top of the other ones that they had already looked through. The fact that the pile was getting bigger meant that there were less tapes that they still needed to look through. However, it was kind of disheartening that they had yet to find the tape from the night of Mindy Tumolo's death. Of course, that was assuming that the young woman had been caught on the video the night of her death, though April's testimony had placed Mindy at the Pale Dog Tavern that night. Even if she had been in the back room part of the time, April had stated that Mindy had been in the main part of the bar at least part of the night. Chances were she had been picked up by the camera at least once.

"Chances are the last tape we put in will end up being the one we're looking for, " Gideon commented as he grabbed another tape from the dwindling supply of cassette's in the bag.

"Statistically speaking, there is as much chance of the tape we're looking for having been the first one inserted into the VCR as it will be the last," Reid commented, his chin propped up on his right hand. His other hand, now wrapped in an ace bandaged as the doctor had declared the injury only a minor sprain, rested on the table.

"Yeah, well it never seems to work that way," Gideon commented as he pushed the next cassette tape into the VCR.

"Let's just hope we haven't spent all this time looking at these tapes for nothing," Hotch said as Gideon pressed the play button on the remote. "As disorganized as that office was, there is a chance that we could have missed a tape, the tape in question got destroyed, or a number of other scenarios."

"Let's not go borrowing trouble until we've gone through all of these," Gideon replied, not wanting to think about not finding the tape from the day that Mindy had been murdered.

The only saving grace with the tapes was that the camera placed the date in the left hand bottom corner of the screen. This saved them from having to actually watch the footage on all the tapes, though the profilers had scanned some of the tapes from near the date of Mindy's death to see if they saw the woman. So far they hadn't had any luck.

As Gideon noted the date in the corner of the screen, he realized that they had finally located the tape they had been looking for.

"Well, it wasn't the last one at least," Hotch commented, as Gideon backed up and sat back down in the chair he had been occupying since coming in from the press conference.

Silence fell over the room then as Hotch, Reid and Gideon focused their attention on the screen in front of them. Time seemed to creep by as the bar slowly came to life, going from the presence of just the workers to the appearance of the early patrons of The Pale Dog Tavern. As Mark Tumolo had stated that Mindy had not left home the night of her murder until six o'clcock that evening, Gideon started fast forward through some of the footage. As the tavern didn't open until two p.m., Gideon knew that he had a few hours of footage that he could skip through before Mindy could even possibly make an appearance. He had just hit play, the scene on the screen now crowded with patrons and employees, when his cell phone rang. Glancing at it, Gideon saw the name of the person he had been anticipating hearing from on the screen.

"It's Strauss," Gideon said, sliding the remote across the table to Hotch as he got to his feet.

Ignoring the 'I'm glad it's you and not me' look he was getting from Hotch, the BAU unit chief pressed the talk button on the phone as he got to his feet. "Gideon," he said into the phone as he casually walked toward the exit of the conference room, leaving Hotch and Reid to the mundane task.

"So, what's this I hear about the BAU taking over the case without any warning?" Strauss asked. The annoyance the Section Chief was feeling came seeping through the open connection.

"The UnSub has crossed state lines," Gideon replied. "I have the authority to do so."

"You knew he had crossed state lines before you left Qunatico," Strauss countered.

"I did but I didn't know the situation we were coming into. There is no communication between the two jurisdictions. The police in Kansas arrested Reid last night during a raid on a tavern we were conducting our investigation at."

"So, you're going to hold the Missouri police, who are the ones that called us in, responsible for that."

"I never blamed the Missouri police for Reid being arrested."

Gideon didn't need to be able to see Strauss to know she would be wearing a mask of frustration right about now.

"Well the call I got from Detective Franklin a little while ago gave me that impression. The way Franklin sees it, you taking over the case came out of the blue and he feels that it's a reaction to Reid's arrest by the Kansas cops."

"I decided that the BAU needs to take lead on this case because the cops on both sides of the river can't seem to communicate with one another. I made the decision that I felt I needed to make to wrap this case up as quickly as possible."

"Without even consulting Detective Franklin, the person who called us in on the case, before making that announcement to the press," Strauss countered. It was exactly the statement that Gideon had been hoping the section chief would make.

"I didn't have time with everything else I was dealing with. Hotch was on scene with the Kansas City, Kansas cops till late last night and then was at the medical center with Agent Reid this morning as well as making sure the correct paperwork was filled out concerning the sprain wrist Reid suffered while on the job."

"Yes, I did get that fax," Strauss stated as Gideon took a brief pause in his speech. They were the only words she was able to get out before Gideon resumed speaking.

"Morgan and Hudson had to make the trip across the river to pick Reid up at the police station there, and Nichols has been busy with other tasks," Gideon continued, making sure to mention each of his agents. He wanted to leave no doubt in Strauss mind that there may have been someone free to have a chat with Franklin. "Like I said, we're all working as hard as we can to get this case wrapped up before our UnSub claims another victim. Given the escalation of only two days between his last two victims, there is no telling when he might strike again. For all I know, our UnSub is out planning his next kill while I'm wasting time discussing playing nice with the local law enforcement."

"Enough, Agent Gideon," Strauss said in a slow, measured voice. "I get the point that you're all extremely busy. If this is a ploy to get me to reconsider your proposal for a media liaison, then you win. I will look into the situation again and see if I can figure out something in the budget that will allow me to add another slot to your team," Strauss said, reluctantly conceding the battle. "However, I need you to do something for me and that is to smooth things over with Detective Franklin," the Section Chief informed him. She had a feeling that asking him to actually apologize to the local detective might be a bit much. Not to mention, Strauss was a little annoyed at them herself after the arrest of a federal agent, even if she had been against Spencer Reid's inclusion in the BAU. "You want to keep lead on this case to keep up your charade, fine, but do it without ruffling more feathers."

Gideon felt the smile come to his face. If he had a mirror to look into, he was sure his expression would be one that could be described as the cat that got the canary. He got the distinct impression that he had managed to get his point across.

"I'll do my best," Gideon replied solemnly, wanting to keep the Section Chief wondering if he would follow through or not. "Will that be all, ma'am. We do have an UnSub to catch."

"Yes, that'll be all for now," Strauss replied. "But I don't want anymore calls from the local law enforcement out there. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Gideon replied, seeing no further reason to bait the woman. As soon as he ended this call he planned on heading to Franklin's office and smoothing things over with the local detective. After he was back in Quantico and had his media liaison, then he'd call Franklin and explain the situation fully, along with an apology for using him and his police force to get what he wanted.

* * *

Erin Strauss drummed her fingers on the mahogany desk that she sat at glaring at the cell phone she had just placed on the gleaming surface. If anyone was there to see her, they would swear that the tiny device had offered some kind of offense. In reality, in was the agent that she had just ended the call with that had gotten under her skin.

There was no doubt in her mind that once again Jason Gideon had manipulated her into given him exactly what he wanted. The reasons behind not granting the media liaison position request had nothing to do with logistics and everything to do with not wanting yet another member of the bureau under Jason Gideon's watch. If asked, she couldn't have cited reasons, but she felt the man was dangerous.

Feelings wouldn't pass for justification in the bureau though, so when pressed she had went with the first thing that came to mind - that Gideon's team worked well as it was so there was no need for a media liaison. Leave it to Jason Gideon to find a way to prove those words wrong by creating a political issue with the local law enforcement in Missouri. By doing it in front of the press, he had made it something that couldn't just be swept under the rug.

Yes, Jason Gideon had known exactly what he was doing out in the Midwest. Unfortunately, there was no way for her to prove that. Added to that was the simple fact that Gideon's team had the highest performance rating on any of the BAU teams. As such, there wasn't much that BAU management would deny them. If Gideon felt a media liaison would help the performance of the team, then getting the money to add that position would not be an issue unless there was concrete evidence that it wasn't working. Gideon's latest stunt with the media only strengthened his case about the need for a media liaison to take some of the pressure off the agent's working the case.

As her fingers ceased their rhythmic tapping, Strauss pushed the cell phone aside and brought her keyboard closer to her. She'd concede defeat in this battle and send her endorsement of the proposal to those above her.

It was just one battle, after all, not the war.


	9. Headway

**_AN: So here it is, the long awaited update. Sorry for the wait. Unfortunately, I can't promise the next update will be quick either with other things that are going on. Either way, I appreciated the support in reviews, alerts and favs this story is getting and hope that you all continue to enjoy the journey._**

 ** _Also, if you haven't submitted a nomination ballot for the 2016 Profiler's Chocie Awards there is still time. Here's the info:_**

 ** _The 2016 Profiler's Choice Awards are on! Calling all CM readers and Authors! Join us in the annual Profiler's Choice CM Awards; help us choose the best of the best Criminal Minds fanfiction and let your voice be heard. Check out the nomination ballot and rules at the Profilers Choice Awards 2016 Forum. All rules and information can be found there. Nominations begin November 10, 2016 and end December 31, 2016 (please note: ballots received before November 10 will not be counted. Thank you). All entries with ten (10) or more categories filled out are eligible to win an Amazon gift card!_**

* * *

 _Last night had been a success. He had located yet another young woman who had been corrupted. Though last night had not provided him with the opportunity to rid the world of yet another scourge that tainted it, he was confident that he would have another chance. Just like his mother had, she would return again to that place. Oh, it might not be tonight, but eventually she would return. It was just their kind's way to return to familiar territory time after time. He didn't understand why, nor did he want to. What he did understand was that their actions destroyed families and lives. Those lives it didn't destroy, they corrupted._

 _Just like they had her._

 _Reaching out, he picked up the lone photo that sat upon the top of the oak dresser, his gaze transfixed on the face within the frame._

 _His Lily. The only one who had truly understood him. The one who had tried to protect him._

 _A perfect flower that had been corrupted by the scourge that he was now trying to fight so that it would stop claiming the innocent._

 _How he missed her._

 _He couldn't bring her back but he would stop others from corrupting people like his Lily. He would do his part to end the cycle._

 _Placing the metal frame back, he turned from it. Staring at the only thing that had ever blossomed in his life wouldn't change the world he lived in. Now was the time for action._

 _In only a few steps he was standing in front of his closet. Pulling out his dark tan leather jacket he slipped into it before reaching up and plucking his black fedora from it's resting spot on the shelf above. He liked to think that these two items created an air of mystery about him. Women always enjoyed a bit of mystery, especially the kind he was seeking out. It was one of the many things he had learned while growing up and like many things, wished he never had._

 _Sliding the closet door shut, he turned. It was time to be like his childhood hero Batman and rid his city of evil._

* * *

Not in any hurry to return to the conference room and the review of the security tapes, Gideon instead headed in the direction of Detective Franklin's office. Peering through the windows of the office, the profiler spotted the local detective at his desk, head bent over paper work. Stepping up to the door, Gideon knocked.

"Come in," came the immediate response from the other side of the closed door.

Turning the door knob, Gideon pushed the door open and took a step into the office.

"Agent Gideon," Franklin said when he spotted his visitor. There was an icy edge to the detective's voice

* * *

The small house was located in a rundown neighborhood. Despite the shabby look to the houses and almost non-existent yards, it was clear to the two profilers that the inhabitants of these dwellings took some pride in where they lived. There was no trash littering the walkways or patches of grass in front of the buildings. The bushes that lined walk-ways were well kept, and the remains of flower beds were shadows of the patches of color that brightened the neighborhood in warmer weather.

Stepping from the black SUV, Nichols, Morgan and Hudson started up one of the bush-lined walkways to a pale yellow house, it's blinds pulled. Reaching the front stoop first, Nichols reached out and rang the doorbell. The sound echoed from within the house, announcing their arrival. Even as it's last sound faded, Nichols heard footsteps inside approaching the door.

As Morgan and Hudson stood behind him, Nichols waited for the door to open, revealing the somber looking man he had spoke with at the station the day before. The man's build showed that he still worked out despite his football glory days being a thing of the past.

"Agent Nichols," Mark Tumolo greeted, recognizing the agent standing at his front door. "What can I do for you?" he asked, his gaze moving past Nichols to the two men standing behidn the familiar agent.

"I had a couple more questions for you, if you don't mind," Nichols replied. "May we come in?"

Mark Tumolo let his gaze sweep over the three agents again. The last thing he wanted to do was answer more questions about his wife. It was bad enough that he had to notify people of her death and make plans for her burial. This wasn't how things were supposed to be, not when they had just started seriously making plans for a family of their own. Still, he wanted the person responsible for Mindy's death to be caught.

"Fine," Mark replied, taking a step back and opening the door further.

Nichols walked through the doorway into the once well kept house, followed closely by Morgan and Hudson. Though it was still evident that Mindy took pride in keeping her home clean and tidy, even the two days of her absence was starting to show. It was clear that Mark was not the house keeper that his wife had been.

"We can talk in the living room," Mark said gruffly, as he locked the door he had pushed shut. Without another word or gesture, the former highschool lineman squeezed past the three federal agents and headed for the aforementioned room.

Reaching the living room, Mark crossed over to 'his' recliner and sat down. Though he didn't invite the federal agents to sit down, Nichols and Hudson both crossed over to the couch and took a seat. Wanting to keep up the intimidation atmosphere, Morgan chose not to take a seat. Instead, the former Chicago police officer crossed over to the front window located behind the couch. Standing next to the window, Morgan crossed his arms, silently keeping watch over the livingroom.

"So what do you want to ask me?" Mark asked, finally breaking the silence. He addressed the question to Nichols, not even glancing at the other two agents.

"Our investigation into your wife's last activities before her death has lead us to believe that she was involved in an activity to bring in extra income. This is supported by your financial records, as there is more money going out than can be accounted for by the pay checks that you and your wife brought home."

"You've looked into our financial records?" Mark asked, a mixture of anger and fear in his voice.

"It's a routine step to our investigation into a victim's life as we try to find similarities between multiple victims or to find out where our victim could have possibly cross paths with our UnSub," Nichols replied casually, trying to put Mark Tumolo at ease. The last thing he wanted was to alienate the man to the point that he kicked them out of the house.

"And just what is it that you believe my wife was involved in?" Mark asked, clearly wanting to know just how much they knew before admitting to anything.

"The bar that your wife was at the night of her murder was raided by city police last night because of a prostitution ring that was run by the owner out of the backroom. We have intelligence that your wife was seen coming and going from the backroom."

A long, slow sigh was the only response that Mark Tumolo gave in response to Nichols' information.

"So you did know about your wife's. . ." Hudson paused briefly as he tried to think of a tactful way to phrase Mindy's activities at the bar. "Extra source of income," he finished.

Again, Mark only gave a nonverbal response as he nodded his head, still not meeting the eyes of any of the profilers.

"And you chose not to share this information when we talked yesterday, for what reason?" Nichols asked, surprised by how calmly Mark was taking everything. "Keeping information like this from us could seriously impede our investigation."

"That wasn't my intent," Mark replied, finally breaking his silence. "I was only trying to protect Mindy's memory," he replied, his tone almost pleading now. "Mindy wasn't a bad person. She was only doing what she was doing because there was no other way to get the extra money," he continued, unable to call his wife a prostitute even now. "We both tried to get second jobs, but neither of us have more than a high school education, and with the hours we already worked no one would hire us."

"What did you need the extra money for?" Morgan asked from his place beside the window.

"Mindy's younger brother, Alan, was diagnosed with leukemia about six months ago. He has only basic medical insurance through their parents and my in-laws were struggling with the medical bills and other expenses. Mindy wanted to help them out, which I fully supported. Unfortunately, it wasn't just as easy as giving up what little time we already had together to come up with extra money to help them out. Neither one of us could find a second job. I even tried to pick up odd jobs under the table with no luck. Picking up money by what she was doing at that bar was a last resort, one that neither one of us were happy with."

"But you let her go through with it?" Hudson asked. Granted, he had never been really serious about any of the girls he had dated, but if he was, he was pretty sure he wouldn't want her running around with other guys even if he knew about it.

"Mindy's close to her younger brother. The fact that he was sick and couldn't do anything to help him was killing her. As I couldn't help out directly I just thought that the best thing I could do was to not stand in her way," Mark replied, dropping his head. Raising his arms, he laced his fingers behind his neck. "All I did was get her killed," he said mournfully.

"This isn't your fault," Nichols said compassionately, feeling for the man. He knew what it felt like to lose your wife. To feel like that death was your fault would only make the grief worse. "You couldn't have predicted what was going to happen. No one could have."

Mark nodded, keeping his head down. The three agents waited quietly, giving the man time to get himself together. When he finally did look up, their were tears glistening in Mark's eyes.

"You're going to find the man who killed her, aren't you?" Mark asked, the pleading tone in his voice plainly evident.

"Yes," Nichols replied without hesitation. Though they always wanted to catch the UnSub in any case they worked, sitting in Mark Tumolo's living room and seeing the man's grief sparked a renewed desire to find the UnSub this time.

Hudson and Morgan didn't bother to contradict their colleague. What Nichols had said was exactly what the man sitting in front of them needed to hear, even if it wasn't the complete truth. They would do their best but sometimes the UnSubs just eluded them no matter how much effort they put into catching them.

"However, we're going to need your help," Nichols added, after letting his confirmation to Mark's question sink in a little. "We need you to tell us everything you know about what your wife did on the nights she was out making the extra income. What nights she went out on? Where she went? Did she ever talk about who she was with? I know this isn't easy but anything you can tell us might help us locate this UnSub."

Mark nodded, his gaze silently sweeping around the room to focus briefly on each agent before he began to speak.

* * *

An hour later Nichols, Hudson and Morgan were strolling back into the conference room at the police station armed with the information that they had gotten from Mark Tumolo, including more dates that she had been at The Pale Dog Tavern.

"And suddenly labeling the tapes after looking at them just came in handy," Gideon commented as Nichols read off the dates that Mark had recalled Mindy going to the Pale Dog Tavern.

As he was closest to the bag of security tapes, Reid started pulling out the tapes. A quick glance at the post-it notes told him which tapes to set aside even as the three returning agents continued reciting what they had learned while out.

"Well, we were able to locate the security tape from the night Mindy was murdered," Gideon said. All six agents were now seated around the table. "From the footage that was captured, Mindy talked to three men that night at the bar. The camera caught the faces of two of the men," he continued. "The third guy's face is hidden from the camera by the fedora that he was wearing."

"So the third guy knew where the camera was," Morgan commented.

"And didn't want to be seen on it," Hotch confirmed.

"I'll get images of all three guys off the tape and see what I can do about getting ids on them," Nichols replied, even as Gideon pushed a VCR tape across the surface of the table toward the team's computer specialist. "The first two should be easy. Our third guy, I may have to get creative."

"Creative how?" Morgan asked, not seeing how it would be possible to id the guy if his fedora was concealing his face.

"Well, just because he knows where the camera is in the bar, it doesn't mean he knows where every camera in the area is. I'll get access to other cameras - other stores, traffic cameras, and cameras operated by the city's mass transit department. With any luck, I'll be able to spot him somewhere else and get an ID," Nichols replied, having taken out his lap top while he was talking.

"Good," Gideon said. "While Nichols works on that, the rest of us will skim through the tapes from these other nights. Let's see if any of our three guys from the night of Mindy's murder were in the bar on those nights as well."

"What about lunch?" Morgan asked, knowing full well that when Gideon got into working a case their unit chief tended to forget that they all needed to eat.

"Already handled," Hotch replied. "We've got food coming from a nearby deli being delivered."

Morgan nodded in response, not at all bothered by the fact that lunch was going to a working lunch. As long as he got food he was good.

The room got quiet, as once again the silent footage from the security camera filled the television screen. Five agents focused their attention on the black and white images on the screen as the only sound, the clicking of Nichols fingers on the keys of his lap top, faded into the background for them.

Nothing was said as the federal agents concentrated on their tasks. When the food arrived, their was a brief pause in the activities as the agents divvied it up. Little was said, and they were soon right back to work. Most of the food had been eaten before another word passed among those occupying the conference room.

"Pause the tape!" Reid said excitedly as he pointed toward the screen.

On the opposite side of the table from Reid, Morgan had jumped slightly at the exclamation, not so much at the sudden sound in the quiet room but more because it was Reid that had spoken. The outburst was uncharacteristic for the usually reserved genius.

Before anyone could ask what had grabbed his attention, Reid was continuing. "There in the top right corner, it's the guy with the black fedora that we saw Mindy with."

"Can you see his face this time?" Nichols asked, not looking up from his computer screen as he asked the question. Despite the amount of footage he had been able to gain access to either by proper means or by hacking the systems, he had yet to get a good glimpse of their mystery guy with the black fedora. The guy was smart enough to avoid areas where the cameras of the mass transit authority would've picked him up on. As for outside cameras on nearby businesses, the man was smart enough to walk with his head down, allowing the fedora to conceal his features once again.

Even if the guy wasn't their UnSub, he apparently had something to hide. Nichols would give just about anything to know what that something was.

"No," Morgan replied, having spotted the guy that Reid had pointed out. "He's looking down at the table. Even if he weren't, we'd only have aobut half of his face in this shot anyways."

"I'd settle for half of a face to work with at this point," Nichols countered.

"How do we even know this is the same guy as on the other tape if we don't have a good shot of his face?" Hudson questioned pragmatically.

"The guy's build matches the one from the other image," Morgan said in response to Hudson's question.

"He's also wearing the same fedora in both images," Gideon replied. "Not exactly a look that seems to be popular amongst the patrons of the bar."

"He also appears to be wearing the same coat," Hotch pointed out. "From this footage, it appears to be the same shade, though there is no way to be sure with the image being black and white. It would help to know what color the coat is."

"If it is the same guy and coat, then the coat is dark tan," Nichols offered, having found a camera image that gave him colored footage. "Unfortunately, it's clear that he's trying to avoid having a camera pick up his face. On the other hand, I have identified the other two men that Mindy was with the night of her murder."

"Go ahead and fill us in," Gideon replied, leaving the tape paused as he turned his attention to Nichol's end of the table.

Turning his laptop so that his colleagues could see the screen, Nichols brought up the image of the first man he had identified.

"Our first man is Tony Lorenzo, age thirty. He's a history professor at Missouri University. Lorenzo divorced three years ago and has an eight year old daughter. Other than a speeding ticket from eight months ago, there doesn't seem to be anything special about the guy."

"Ramsey Flores, on the other hand, is a little less straight-laced. He works in the mail room for Bancroft Incorporation during the week. In the evenings he can be sometimes be found playing lead guitar in The Black Mustangs, a local band that Ramsey has been in since high school. From the reviews I've read, the band was popular among their peers in high school but since its members have graduated has had only mediocre success."

Gideon opened his mouth to say something but Nichols didn't give the unit chief a chance to say anything as he forged ahead.

"And yes boss, I checked the band's schedule against the dates of our victims. With the exception of Alicia Hayes and Mindy Tumolo, The Black Mustangs were performing the night of the murders and the performance venues were no where near where the bodies were found. Chances are he isn't our UnSub."

"But it would still be worth talking to him," Hotch said. "We know he spent at least some time with Mindy before she was killed. Something he saw that night might help us identify and locate the third guy on the tape."

"Agreed," Gideon said, having been thinking along the same lines.

"I think we should also talk to April, the waitress I was talking to at The Pale Dog, again," Reid offered timidly. The excitement of finding the guy in the bar on the second night having past, the young genius was once again showing less confidence in his suggestions. "She might remember seeing the guy in the fedora and be able to give us some kind of ID on the guy."

"Good thinking," Gideon said quickly, wanting to encourage the young agent's contributions to the group discussions. Besides, they didn't want to leave any stone unturned in this case.

Finally, they had something to do other than hang around the station watching security tapes. Gideon glanced around at his agents, decided how best to deploy them to accomplish the next set of tasks.

"Okay, so neither Lorenzo nor Flores seem likely to be our UnSub, but we still have proof that they were with Mindy on the night of her death. Let's find out what they know. Morgan and Hudson I want the two of you to go talk to Flores. See what he can tell us about his time spent with Mindy that night. I'll go have a chat with Lorenz. Hotch and Reid, the two of you go see if this waitress can tell us anything about any more about our mystery guy in the fedora. Do we know where to find her?"

"I got her contact information when I convinced the city police over in Kansas to release her last night," Hudson spoke up. "Told her we needed it in case we had more questions for her. She was so relieved not to be charged that she handed it over willingly."

"Good," Gideon replied, even as he turned to look over at Nichols. "What about Lorenzo and Flores?"

"Work and home addresses are already sent to the respective phones," the team's computer specialist announced promptly, having already anticipated the question. "Meanwhile, I'm guessing you want me to go through the rest of those tapes and keep working on the computers."

"Yes," Gideon replied, knowing that once again Nichols was getting stuck with the mundane task. Unfortunately, they needed the man's computer skills right now more than they needed another agent in the field. "I'll try to find something more exciting for you to do tomorrow," he added lightly.

"As long as it doesn't involve the media, I'd be all for that," Nichols joked as his colleagues got their feet and headed out of the conference room to carry out their assignments.


	10. New Victim?

**_AN: I figured I would end my vacation from work by updating this story again. The next updates depends on when I get the next chapter back from my beta, although I am happy to say that after spending my staycation going through what was already written of this story, I am currently working on chapter 20. Feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you think of the chapter and story in general!_**

* * *

 _Dear Mom,_

 _We're still in Kansas City, Missouri on the case. It's been a slow day but then we have those while working these cases. I think we're all hoping for a break in the case, but nothing has been forthcoming so far. We're still trying to identify a guy that was in the security video with one of our victims but he's remaining elusive. Somehow though, I have a feeling that Nichols is still awake in his hotel room trying to discover the guy's identity. Sometimes I wonder how he puts in the hours that he does and still seems wide awake the next day._

 _There isn't really much more to say on my end. I do hope all is well with you. I guess maybe it's a good thing this is written on a postcard, as a page would seem very empty. I hope you like the postcard I picked out for you. I thought one of Kansas City at night would be a nice collection to the postcards I have sent you so far._

 _With Love,_

 _Spencer_

Placing the pen down on the desk, Spencer looked down at the postcard. It really was a good day to write his daily letter on a postcard as he couldn't think of much of anything to say. The last thing he wanted to do was bring up his injury. Even though it was only a sprain, he still didn't want to trouble her with it as his mother worried about him enough as it was.

Reaching for a postcard stamp from the collection of stamps he always kept on hand, the young genius stuck it on the square designated for the postage.

Though he knew he should probably get some sleep as Gideon had called for another early morning, Reid didn't feel at all sleepy. He felt on edge, as if something was about to happen. It was a feeling that he couldn't explain and he hated that more than the feeling itself. The last time he had a feeling like this had been during their case down in Georgia, when he had felt as if someone were watching them. He hadn't been wrong that time, though he definitely wished he had been.

Deciding that he was never going to be able to relax just sitting around the hotel room, Reid decided to take the postcard down to the mailbox in the lobby. It would give himself something to do and perhaps the walk would relax him enough so he could sleep. Retrieving the postcard from the desk, the Las Vegas native left the room.

As he headed down the corridor to the elevator, Reid found himself going over the conversation that they'd had with April early that evening. His eidetic memory allowed him to repeat the conversation in his head pretty much word for word. Though April had remembered seeing the man with the fedora her memories of what the guy looked like were vague. She was able to confirm the color of the hat and jacket, letting them know that the man Nichols had picked up on the other security cameras outside The Pale Dog Tavern, was the same guy that had spent time with Mindy inside the bar that night. The Pale Dog waitress had also been able to tell them that the guy had brown hair, and kept the fedora pulled low, shielding his face at all times. April had also recalled seeing him for several nights in a row, though most of the time he had kept to himself.

Though the information had helped them, it still wasn't enough to ID him. What it did though was add even more suspicion to his actions. His returning to the same place may have been his way of selecting his target, which meant that he could very well be at another bar tonight picking or even stalking an already chosen target.

They wanted to catch this guys before he claimed his next victim but every night that passed without any leads lessened the chance of that happening.

Lost in his recollections of earlier, Reid had still managed to get on the elevator and hit the button for the lobby. As the elevator doors opened in the lobby, the young genius brought his focus back to the present as he stepped into the lobby.

At this time of night the lobby had quieted down from the buzz that occupied it during daylight hours. Over by the fireplace, where Gideon had started this day out by working on his crossword puzzle, a couple now occupied two of the chairs. Their heads were bent together as they talked quietly. A man in a business suit was sitting in another chair along the side of the lobby, laptop opened on his lap. A family of five was making their way across the lobby toward the elevators that Reid was leaving. At the registration desk, only two employees were now visible. Of those two, one was on the phone, and the other was leaning on the counter, his attention focused on the nearby television.

Having not yet shaken the feeling that he had up in the hotel room, Reid's eyes kept scanning everything as he made his way across the lobby. If his feeling was right, he was determined not to be taken by surprise this time around.

The young genius reached the mailbox near the entrance of the hotel. Slipping the postcard through the slot, Reid turned and headed back toward the elevators. As he approached the registration desk, the television screen caught his attention. Across the bottom of the screen were the words 'Breaking News, Kansas City, Kansas'. Pausing, he watched and listened to the news coverage being broadcasted.

" _Is this death related to the murders that the FBI is currently investigation_ " a news reporter asked a uniformed police officer who was standing in front of yellow crime scene tape.

" _We are unsure of that at this time,"_ the officer replied.

Beyond the crime scene tape, Reid saw the flashing sign that read The Shortstop Pub. Most of the police activity seemed to be not at the bar itself but in the alley to the right of the building.

" _Has the FBI been notified at this time?_ " another reporter asked.

" _No. We want to finish our initial investigation to determine if this is something that we should bother the FBI with,_ " the police officer replied, the indignation clear in his voice. _"I want to ensure the public though that your local city police have got this situation under control at this time."_

Turning his attention away from the television and toward the clerk working the desk, Reid asked, "What station is this?"

"I have it on channel four," the clerk replied, without missing a beat having been aware of a guest near the desk despite watching the news broadcast. " But chances are, all the local stations will have some type of coverage."

"Thanks," Reid replied, reaching into his pants pocket and pulling out his cell phone. Whether it was related to their case or not wasn't a determination that could be made at this point. However, Reid had no doubt that Gideon would want to know about the news coverage.

* * *

 _When I received the promotion to SAC, I knew their was added politics that came with the position. Any time you're in charge of anything, you've always got to walk the line between getting the job done and keeping up the image of whatever company you're working for. However, the promotion allowed me to carry out my dream of gathering together a team of profilers to work the cases that came into the BAU. Forming the team meant learning to play within the political boundaries of the bureau. I've chosen to see it as just another way to use my profiling skills, and that has served me well these last few years._

 _This latest struggle with Strauss is simply politics. I know she still resents the fact that I was offered the job of Section Chief before it was offered to her. Perhaps I should have just taken the position and saved myself the headache of dealing with the woman. However, doing that would have meant giving up leading this team and this is where I want to be. I want to be out in the field, chasing the monsters down, and helping to hone the skills of those who will carry out that task after I'm gone. That's what is important to me, not dealing with the political agenda of the bureau. Strauss can have that job, even if it means she makes my job harder._

 _To know that I made the right decision, all I need to do is look at my team. I have no doubt that one day Hotch will be leading this team instead of me. Though the justice system lost a fine lawyer when he joined the bureau, I'm glad that he made that choice as his skills I think are put to better use hunting down these guys rather than prosecuting them. The natural skill he saw in Reid, despite the young man's self-confidence and other social issues, was the ultimate statement of that. Most people would have dismissed Reid for this field, despite his brilliance. If I'm honest with myself, I might have been one of them, but Hotch saw the potential there and now the rest of the team is beginning to see it too. I'm looking forward to seeing the kind of agent Spencer Reid will one day become._

The ringing of his telephone brought Gideon out of the process of putting his thoughts down on paper, and back to reality. Reaching for the device, Gideon glanced at the screen briefly before answering it, quickly dismissing the surprise at the name he saw on the screen.

"Hello, Spencer," Gideon greeted, using the young agent's first name as he often did when they didn't have an audience. He felt that it put the younger man more at ease. "What's going on?"

"I know it's late, sir, but I caught a glimpse of a breaking news story on the television down in the lobby. Another body has been found near a bar in Kansas City, Kansas. The coverage I caught was on channel four."

Without bothering with a reply, Jason reached for the television remote which hadn't been touched since he walked into the hotel room. Flipping on the television and switching it to channel 4, Gideon saw a news reporter on the screen recapping the news story, including the decision of the captain in charge of the scene to hold off notifying the FBI.

Though the recap only gave him the basics, a new murder in the area was enough for Gideon to want to check out personally even if it wasn't related to their case. Normally, he wouldn't bother the rest of the team at this hour for what could be a wild goose chase. However, given his remarks about the local police this morning, and the fact that the Kansas police didn't seem to want them on the scene yet, Gideon didn't feel comfortable with the idea of going alone or even just bringing Reid.

"You still there, Spencer?" Gideon said into the phone, having made his decision.

"Yes, sir."

"Grab your stuff and be back down in the lobby in ten minutes. Invited or not, we're going to go check this murder out for ourselves. I'll alert the rest of the team and meet you down there."

"Yes, sir."

Ending the call with Reid, Gideon started placing the rest of the calls, starting with Hotch. After he had alerted his whole team, Gideon flipped his journal shut, leaving it sitting on the desk. Reaching for the coat he had discarded on the bed when entering the room earlier, he started putting it on as he headed for the door, the television still broadcasting the news coverage behind him.

Gideon found Reid already waiting in the lobby when he stepped off the elevator. The young agent was bundled in his long coat and scarf, his messenger bag draped over one shoulder. Gideon had barely joined him when the rest of the team stepped off the next elevator to reach the lobby. Despite the hour, and the suddenness of the call, the profilers had wasted no time at answering the summons.

As he led the group out to the parking lot, Gideon briefed the others on what he had learned from the news broadcast. "We're showing up without invitation, so don't expect a warm welcome," Gideon cautioned his agents as they approached the SUV's. "I want everyone to stick together."

There was a chorus of acknowledgments as the agents headed for two of the SUV's. Morgan, Hudson and Nichols all headed for the one that Morgan had a key for, while Gideon headed for the SUV he had parked only hours earlier. As he walked, he took the keys out of his jacket pocket and tossed them to Hotch. Reaching the SUV, Gideon climbed into the passenger seat while Hotch climbed behind the wheel. Not having been far behind his two superiors, Reid climbed in the back.

The drive to the murder site was quiet. Each agent was lost in their own thoughts. As they approached the scene, it became evident to Gideon that they were not going to be able to approach the scene discreetly.

Reaching up, Gideon opened a channel via the ear whig that they always wore while out in the field.

"I don't think we're going to be able to get right up to the scene with the vehicles. We'll have to approach by foot, which means the media is probably going to spot us fairly quick. The only thing I want to hear out of anyone's mouth before we get past the crime scene tape is 'no comment'. Is that understood."

The affirmative responses came back quickly even as Hotch pulled the SUV over to the side of the road behind a news van. As of yet, the gathered spectators hadn't noticed the two black SUV's joining the crowd.

One by one, the BAU agents climbed from the vehicles. Letting Gideon lead the way, the profilers headed toward the crime scene. They had barely passed the news van when the first spectator noticed them. Soon the media was shouting questions at them while hindering the forward progress of the agents. As ordered, the only words out of the FBI agent's mouths were no comment. Even Gideon had taken up the mantra.

Eventually, Gideon reached the edge of the crime scene and one of the Kansas police officers making sure that the spectators stayed one the correct side of the crime scene tape. Taking out his badge, he flipped it open for the officer to see. "SSA Jason Gideon, my team and I would like to see the crime scene to determine if it fits in with the other murders we're investigating."

Despite the dim lighting of the area, Gideon saw the color drain out of the officer's face at the statement. It was obvious that facing FBI agents wasn't something the officer had been expecting. "Ah, one moment, sir," the officer stammered before turning to survey the crime scene. Spotting the person he was looking for, the officer raised his hand as he called, "Captain Blythe, can you come over here a moment, sir?"

The police captain that the officer had beckoned, quickly finished giving instructions to part of the crime scene investigation team and then headed in their direction. As he approached, Gideon recognized Captain Blythe as the officer who had been shown talking with the media on the news broadcast.

"What's going on, Kelton?" Captain Blythe asked as he stopped just shy of the crime scene tape, his gaze surveying Gideon and his team. As the police captain's gaze rested briefly on Reid, the young genius unconsciously took a small step to the side to put himself partially behind Hotch.

"Um, the FBI are here, sir," Officer Kelton responded, clearly nervous about having to make that announcement. "They say they want to look at the scene themselves."

"Who notified you of this death?" Captain Blythe asked, glaring at Gideon as he asked the question.

"No one," Gideon replied, holding the police captain's gaze. He refused to be intimidated by the local police, even those he had managed to piss off. "I saw the news coverage on the television and decided to come down and see for myself if this is the work of our UnSub," Gideon informed him. He was well aware that the media had their attention focused on the exchanged. The profiler was banking on that fact keeping Blythe from making a scene about their arrival.

"We're not sure yet that this death has anything to do with those other murders," Blythe replied, clearly not wanting them on the crime scene.

"Well, we can help you make that determination," Gideon stated politely, giving Blythe another opportunity to comply with the request before he mentioned anything about them interfering with a federal investigation. The last thing he wanted on the news was another incident between the FBI and the local police.

"Very well," Captain Blyther consented, apparently deciding that a scene wasn't in his best interest either. "Let them through, Kelton," he ordered before turning and walking away. Though he had granted them access to the scene, that was apparently as helpful as Blythe wanted to be at the moment.

Lifting the crime scene tape for them, Officer Kelton motioned the FBI agents under it. Gideon ducked under first, followed, one by one, by the rest of the team. As soon as Hudson, the last agent in line, was under, Kelton dropped the crime scene tape and went back to surveying the crowd.

"As no one seems too willing to share information let's start poking around," Gideon told his team.

Heading in the direction in which most of the activity seemed to be taken place, Gideon led the team down the alley between the bar and a floral shop. Finding the body in an alley near a bar was consistent with their UnSub's MO. Approaching the dumpster, the profilers saw the victim lying on the ground between the dumpster and the wall of the bar. A police photographer was snapping pictures of the area while another figure was crouching down in front of the body. The letters on the back of the latter's jacket identified them as the ME.

"What do you know so far?" Gideon asked, holding his badge out for the ME to see.

The ME glanced up over his shoulder. As he took in the badge, the guy got to his feet even as the profilers took in the scene for themselves. The body was bound and gagged liked the other victims, but instead of being strangled, the young woman's throat had been cut. Once again, the victim had shoulder length black hair.

"Apparent cause of death is the wound to the throat," the ME replied. "The jugular vein was hit, meaning that she would have bled out quickly. From the amount of blood on the ground, I'd say they killed her here. From my preliminary examination, it doesn't look like there was any sexual assault but the torn dress suggests he might have tried. I can't say more until I do a full examination back at the lab. We haven't been able to ID her yet."

"I'm working on that, Boss," Nichols piped up, not looking up from his phone. He had taken a picture of the victim with his phone while the ME was talking and was now remotely logged into his computers back at Quantico.

"If it is our UnSub, he's changing his pattern," Morgan ventured, putting into words what they were all thinking. "He strangled his other victims, something that would take time. Here, he simply cut the victim's throat for a quick death."

"Maybe he was interrupted this time and had to react quickly," Hudson guessed.

"In which case, he may have left a clue behind that he didn't intend on," Hotch volunteered. He looked at the ME. "Do you know who found the body?" he asked the man.

The ME nodded in the direction of the backdoor of the bar. "The bar's shift manager," the ME supplied. "He was bringing out trash when he found the body."

Gideon glanced in that direction to see a man in his late twenties or early thirties leaning against the door jam of the propped open back door. Even in the poor lighting Gideon could see how shaken the man was.

"Hudson, let's you and I go talk to the shift manager," Gideon said. "Hotch, Reid and Morgan continue to look around the crime scene and see if the UnSub left us any other clues this time," he instructed as he headed in the direction of the backdoor.

Hudson fell in step with Gideon. Though he hadn't been included in any instructions, Nichols followed the two of them, most of his attention still focused on his phone as he searched for the ID of their latest victim.


	11. Fresh Crime Scene

**AN: Okay, folks, here is chapter 11. I appreciate everyone's patience with me getting to this update. I think this will clear up some questions asked by reviewers following last chapter. Let me know what you think.**

 **On another note, don't forget to check out the stories nominated in this year's Profiler's Choice Awards. Information can be found here:**

 ** _The 2016 Profiler's Choice Awards are on! Calling all CM readers and Authors! Join us for the final round in our annual Profiler's Choice CM Awards; help us choose the best of the best Criminal Minds fanfiction and let your voice be heard. Check out the final ballot and rules at the Profilers choice Awards 2016 Forum. All rules and information can be found there. Voting ends February 28 2017._**

* * *

 _Out of breath, he ducked into an alley way, once again trying to hide in the shadows. Leaning his forehead against the rough brick of the building, he banged his fists against the wall._

 _~No, No, No, ~ his mind screamed, as he finally had time to process what had happened. He never should have been interrupted. No one ever got rid of trash at this time of night. He had determined that long before he had begun his quest to clean up the area. He had spent weeks surveying his hunting grounds, learning the routines and the comings and goings of people in the area. After taking trash out between seven and eight p.m., the workers of that bar never got rid of trash again until after closing at two a.m. So why did, they choose tonight to change that routine!_

 _All his planning thrown at the window by one person! Didn't they understand that he was only trying to make the city a better place for everybody?_

 _With a final bang on the wall, he turned and leaned back against it. He couldn't change what had happened. It was circumstance out of his control and he had adapted as best he could. The important thing was that his goal had been accomplished. The world was rid of one more woman that could corrupt those younger than them. It was a step toward breaking the circle._

 _Looking down, he saw the dark substance that was her blood. It was the first time he'd had blood on his hands. The strange thing was, it didn't bother him like he thought it would. It was simply proof that he had done good in the world._

 _Pushing himself off the wall, he stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and emerged from the alley he had ducked into. His heart was still beating fast, but he knew he couldn't stay here long. He also knew that the time for running had past. A guy strolling down the road wouldn't attract attention in the city whereas a running figure would._

 _His work was over for tonight. It was time to go home and let Lily know. He'd reassess things. Perhaps this was the better way. Maybe their blood on his hands was a better feeling than watching the life leave their eyes after all._

* * *

"I usually wait for the end of the night to take the trash out but as busy as things were earlier, the trash didn't get taken out earlier tonight so it was piling up," the shift manager said as he related the same story he had told the local police to the federal agents. "So, I decided to take some of it out. As soon as I opened the back door I heard noises over by the dumpster. Not knowing what it was, I didn't exactly rush outside you know. You never know who or what could be lurking in the alley theses days," the man said, pausing for a moment.

Gideon nodded, both in acknowledgment of the statement and encouraging the young man to continue.

"Well, I stood here in the doorway and called out. I didn't get any answer, so I stayed where I was, trying to decide if I should just go back inside or if it was just some animal. I was just about to go back inside when I saw someone run from the shadows by the dumpsters and down the alley."

"He wasn't expecting anyone to be in the alley and his routine got interrupted," Hudson commented. "That's why his MO changed."

"Are you saying that by coming into the alley I caused him to kill that girl?" the shift manager asked, clearly troubled by the thought.

"This isn't your fault," Gideon assured him. "The UnSub intended to kill her no matter what. He just changed his method when you came out in the alley. He clearly wasn't expecting you, which meant he's been watching the area so that he knew everyone's routine."

"Which means the dump sites aren't as random as we first thought," Hudson interjected.

"Right. We're clearly dealing with an organized killer. So the fact that his routine was interrupted tonight might just be the break we need in this case," Gideon added before looking back at the shift manager. "When did you discover the body?"

"After the guy ran off, I decided to just get rid of the trash anyway. I had already tossed the bags into the dumpster before I noticed the body. As much blood as there was, I was sure she was already dead."

"Is there anything else you can remember?" Gideon asked. "What the man who ran off was wearing? His approximate height perhaps?"

"I didn't really get a good look to be able to judge height and it was too dark to see details. I did notice that the man was wearing some kind of hat as he ran off. I remembered seeing him reach up to pull it down."

"Our mystery guy in the fedora?" Hudson ventured.

"Well, if it was, I unfortunately still can't give you an ID on him," Nichols replied, speaking up for the first time since following Gideon and Hudson over to talk to the shift manager. Up until this point, neither Gideon nor Hudson were sure that the computer specialist had even been following the conversation. "I can however tell you who our latest victim is. Marie Sutton, single mother with a very long job history. She doesn't seem to be able to hold onto one job for long. She also has a police record, having been picked up for prostitution two times in the last three years and once for petty larceny. From what I can gather, the larceny charge was for stealing food."

"So, he's moved on from targeting women who are trying to keep the fact that they're earning money from prostitution quiet to someone who has already been arrested for it," Hudson commented. "Our UnSub seems to be targeting prostitutes but is it for a social reason or something more personal?"

"Is there anything else you need me for?" the shift manager asked. The conversation between the profilers was going right over his head. He had just finished an interview with a local officer and had been ready to return to work when Gideon had introduced himself and aked to speak with him. "I really should get back inside and check on things."

"Yeah, go ahead," Gideon told him, feeling that they had probably got us much information as they were going to get from the bar's shift manager. "Thank-you for your help."

"I wish I could have helped more," the shift manager said before turning and heading back into the bar.

Turning away from the backdoor, Gideon, Hudson and Nichols headed in the direction of their three comrades. As the former three approached Hotch, Reid and Morgan, Gideon noticed that Morgan was paying more attention to something in the building that housed the floral shop than the crime scene itself.

"Everything okay?" Gideon asked, as he walked up beside Morgan.

"I guess," Morgan replied, not looking at the older agent. "It's just that I've noticed someone watching what is going on from the one window on the second story of the floral shop building," the Chicago native informed Gideon. "I've caught the curtain moving at least six times since we got here. Granted, it could be someone who is just curious about what is going on out here however. . . "

"If they're watching now, then perhaps they were watching earlier and saw something," Gideon said, finishing the other profiler's sentence for him.

"Exactly," Morgan confirmed, still watching the windows of the other building.

"Take Nichols and Hudson and go see if you can get them to talk to you," Gideon instructed. "It can't hurt to find out exactly how much they know."

"Yes, sir," Morgan replied quickly, as talking to whoever was up there was exactly what he wanted to do.

With a quick glance at both of the other agent's, Morgan headed back up the alley. Reaching the mouth of the alley, the three FBI agents' ignored the calls from the media as they turned left toward the floral shop. Locating the steps to the second floor landing, Morgan led the way to the living quarters above the shop.

Reaching the door, Morgan reached out and rapped his knuckles loudly on the door. Standing behind him, Nichols and Hudson kept a lookout to make sure no one approached and took them by surprise.

Morgan let a few minutes pass without response to his knock before banging on the door. "FBI," the dark-skinned profiler called out. "I know someone is awake in there. We saw you watching us."

There were a few more moments of silence before the profilers heard footsteps from within. There was a movement of locks and then the door opened partway, a chain securing it from opening all the way.

"Can I see a badge or something?"asked the red-haired woman peering through the partially opened door. The fear and nerves were evident in her voice as she made the request.

Reaching into his pocket, Morgan took out his credentials and flipped them open. Holding it up to the crack, Morgan held it steady so that the woman could examine it. "We just want to ask you a few questions," the Chicago native said in a neutral tone.

"Okay," the woman finally said with a slight nod. Pushing the door shut, she undid the chain and then opened her front door all the way. Stepping aside to allow access to her home, the woman motioned the agents in.

"Have a seat," the woman invited as she shut and locked the door behind Agent Nichols who was the last of the three to enter.

Morgan, Hudson and Nichols all found spots on the tan, plush sofa, leaving the living room's sole arm chair open for their hostess. "Like I said before, I noticed you watching what was taking place in the alley from your window," Morgan began.

"So curiosity is a crime now?" the woman asked, as she sat down in the arm chair.

"Nobody said that," Hudson replied.

"And we're not accusing you of anything," Nichols added reassuringly.

"What we were wondering," Morgan said, picking up right after his teammates, "is if perhaps you noticed something earlier tonight. Before the police arrived on the scene, maybe?"

"How did you know?" the woman replied, unable to hide the surprise she felt. The emotion showed in both her voice and her face.

"You kept ducking behind the curtain any time you thought someone was looking in your direction, as if you didn't want anyone to know you were watching. It's an action of someone who has something to hide. The question is, what is it that you are trying to hide?"

The woman looked away from the FBI agents and toward the window. Around the edges of the curtains, flashing red and blue lights from the scene in the alley below found their way through to the interior.

"I may have seen something," the woman said softly. "I'm not sure and with the recent deaths . . ."

The woman paused as she tried to collect her courage and organize her thoughts. "I live alone," she continued, "above a shop that I run on my own. The recent deaths of those women have naturally concerned me and put me on edge. When I heard a noise outside tonight, I went to the window to check it out even though I know the dumpsters for the alley are out there. However, everything was so dark down there. I couldn't really make anything out. I was debating on calling the cops anyway, just to have someone check things out you know, when that guy came out of the bar. I'm not sure what took place but I saw a shadow running down the alley I stopped watching then. At that point I didn't want to know what was going on out there. I tried to forget about what might have happened out there, but once the emergency responders started showing up, it was kind of hard to do that," the woman said, feeling as though the rest was self explanatory.

There was a moment of silence as the three profilers digested the information, each judging for themselves whether the woman could be believed or not.

"Am I right in thinking that someone is dead out there?"

"Yes," Morgan replied, deciding for himself that the woman was too scared and too nervous to be making things up.

"And I saw the killer running away, didn't I?" the woman asked, the panic settling in even as she spoke. "Does that mean he's going to be coming after me next? If you guys noticed me watching he may have seen me too?"

"Relax," Morgan told her calmly. "We're trained to look for things in the area to provide clues to solve our cases. Just because I noticed you watching us, it does not mean the killer saw you. He would have had other things on his mind at the time."

"As for being a target," Hudson chimed in, "though I do suggest you stay vigilant, you are not this UnSub's type."

"The killer has a type?" the woman asked, a trace of curiosity coming through her fear.

"Most killers do, yes," Morgan answered. "They pick their targets according to a certain criteria, either consciously or subconsciously. With this particular guy, you don't fit the criteria that he is looking for."

"Somehow that doesn't make me feel much better."

"However, having him off the streets might. I know you said it was dark, but is there anything else you can tell us about the figure you saw run away?" Morgan asked. "Even if it seems insignificant, it could provide a valuable clue."

The woman shook her head. "I'm sorry. I really can't add anything else," she informed them, real regret lacing her voice.

Morgan glanced to his left and met the eyes of both Nichols and Hudson. This was apparently just another dead end. The Chicago native could see the disappointment he felt reflected in his colleagues' eyes.

"Wait a minute," the woman said slowly. "I'm pretty sure that when the guy running off reached the end of the alley he turned left."

"Unfortunately it's a little too late to try to chase him," Hudson commented, matter of factly.

"Yeah, I kind of figured that but my point is, he would've ran past the front of my shop. Like I said, I run the shop alone. I have security cameras both inside and outside of the shop. The camera outside picks up the people passing by on the sidewalk. There is a chance the camera caught him as he left. Unfortunately, only the company that runs my security can access the camera footage."

"Not necessary," Nichols replied, reaching for the computer bag he had sat at his feet. Reaching into it, he pulled out his laptop and put it down on the coffee table. Flipping it open, he let it boot-up as he pulled out the device he needed to connect to the internet.

"Agent Nichols is our team's computer specialist," Morgan informed the confused looking woman. "He'll be able to access the camera footage to see if we have an image of the guy."

"Okay," the woman replied, casting another apprehensive look in Nichols direction. Apparently the information did nothing to help her feeling of insecurity.

"Which reminds me, we didn't exactly introduce ourselves," Morgan said, hoping that some small talk might help the woman feel more at ease. "I'm SSA Derek Morgan," he told her. "My two colleagues are SSA Hudson and SSA Nichols," he said, pointing at the two respectively as he said their names. The latter's fingers were dancing over his keyboard and Morgan wondered how much the computer specialist was hearing.

"I'm Jaden Bruno," the woman replied.

"Well, Jaden, it's nice to meet you and we do thank-you for your help."

"I'm not sure exactly how much help I've been," she replied.

"Actually quite a bit," Nichols replied, proving once again that he had been paying attention to what he was doing even as he worked. "The security camera did catch him as he hurried past and for once he isn't carefully hiding his face with the fedora."

"So, we finally have a picture of him?" Hudson asked, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.

Nichols nodded. "It's not the best picture ever taken, but I will be able to pull a still image of our suspect that I can run through my facial recognition program," the computer specialist informed the other two agents even as he continued to work.

There were a few more moments of silence as the other three people in the room continued to watch Nichols work over the computer. The silence was finally broken by Nichols once again.

"Just give me a minute to set things up so that the results of the search are sent to my phone and we'll get out of your livingroom, Jaden," Nichols said, casting a brief glance at the woman.

Jaden gave a weak smile and then glanced over at Morgan. "So, you're going to catch this guy right."

"Yes," Morgan replied, for the first time since this case started really believing that they would. "In any case, he's nowhere near here tonight, so try to get some sleep."

Jaden glanced over at the window that looked out over the alley. Flashing red and blue lights still creeped in around the edges. "A lot easier said than done," Jaden replied.

Morgan nodded understandingly.

"There, as soon as the computer back in Quantico gets any results, it'll send it to my phone," Nichols said, closing the lid of his laptop as he began to pack things up once again.

Beside him, Morgan and Hudson got to their feet.

"We're sorry for the disturbance tonight, but do thank-you for your help."

Jaden nodded, feeling a bit ashamed at not calling in what she knew right away and for trying to avoid opening the door. She had just been so scared. She still didn't feel completely at ease, but at least she knew she had help the police find a killer that had been terrorizing her city.

Once he had his things packed up, Nichols too got to his feet. Jaden walked the three agents to the door. Stepping back into the cold night, Morgan led the way back down the stairs. As they headed back toward the alley to rejoin the rest of his team, Morgan found himself surveying the shop. He spotted at once the camera tucked above the front entrance of the floral shop, which he had missed on his way past the first time.

Ignoring the media again, the three federal agents ducked back under the crime scene tape. They found Gideon, Hotch and Reid standing by the back door of the bar as the local police officers continued to work the crime scene.

"Did they see anything?" Gideon asked, directing the question to Morgan as he, Nichols and Hudson joined them.

"Not much more than the bar's shift manager did," Morgan replied. "However, she's the owner of the floral shop and pointed out that there is a security camera outside the entrance of the shop. Nichols was able to lift a good enough image of the fleeing suspect to run through his facial recognition software."

"I think that's the best news I've heard all night," Gideon replied, grateful that they might finally be able to identify the mystery man that Mindy had been with on the night of her death. With what the bar shift manager had been able to tell them, and what they had been able to determine from the crime scene, Gideon felt sure that this was the work of their UnSub and that he had simply gotten spooked. Which meant that now was the time to locate him, as he was more likely to make mistakes.

However, they had probably learned all that they could from the crime scene. He had already made arrangements with the ME to have him fax at copy of the complete report to the station when it was completed. Right now, what they needed to do was regroup and figure out their next step.

"Let's head to the station and figure out where we go from here," Gideon said, the words more of an order than a suggestion. He knew his agents were tired, as was he, but he also knew that he wasn't going to get any complaints from any of them. Late nights and lack of sleep were sometimes the price they had to pay to catch up with their quarry.

As he led the way back toward where Officer Kelton still stood as a sentry to the crime scene, Gideon looked around for Captain Blythe. Despite the captain's hostile attitude, Gideon intended to give him an update of what they had found on the crime scene. Not spotting him however, the BAU Unit Chief instead elected to leave the information with the young officer.

Reaching Kelton, Gideon had a quiet conversation with the young officer, informing him about what the floral shop owner had told him, and about retrieving the image of the UnSub fleeing the scene.

"Let Captain Blythe know that I will be happy to send him any information we find out from the security camera image," Gideon concluded, taking out one of his cards and handing it to Officer Kelton. "He can reach me via my cell phone."

"Ah, yes sir," Officer Kelton replied, taking the card from Gideon before reaching out to lift the crime scene tape for the departing federal agents.


End file.
